Chapter 7

To train more effectively, Blaine spent hours at the motorcycle training grounds every day.

Coming home in the wee hours had become routine.

He had a stomach condition, and I used to be unable to bear seeing him suffer even a little.

I would always get up at dawn just to make Blaine a hot meal.

But Blaine would always angrily throw the bowls and chopsticks.

He said something once that I still remember to this day.

"If it's made by you, I don't even want to look at it."

Now, those words are being served right back to him.

Blaine's lips trembled slightly as he grasped my hand.

With a tone bordering on pleading, he said to me, "Myra, I was wrong before..."

"I didn't know you were sick..."

"Please, listen to me and get proper treatment..."

I coldly shook off his hand.

My heart sank.

I figured the attending physician must have told him I'd given up on treatment.

Outside the window, heavy snow was still falling, even bending the tree branches.

"Do you need me to tell you?"