Yueyao's lips parted in shock, Her tears clung to her lashes as she whispered hoarsely, "I… I was…"
She couldn't even finish her words. Her voice was thin and broken, like cracked glass. He didn't even ask how she was doing!
Shen Xiao glanced around the ward, his brows drawing together in faint disgust at the sight of her hooked up to IV drips, surgical dressings peeking from under her gown, the faint smell of antiseptic and sickness lingering in the air.
He didn't even ask the doctor what had happened to her. To him, it didn't matter. Her presence here was nothing but another inconvenience.
He scoffed lightly, his lips curling in disdain, "Whatever this is… just don't make a scene. You are already pathetic enough with your acts, don't drag my name through the mud with your drama. You should by now know what I'm capable of doing..."
A bitter metallic taste filled Yueyao's mouth as she bit down hard on her trembling tongue to keep from sobbing out loud.
'Yes, I know... You will do anything to keep your image, you will do anything for his legacy...'
She wanted to scream at him, to tell him she had nearly died in surgery, that she had lost a child, their child, that her insides felt like they were rotting from emptiness and grief.
But she said nothing.
Because she knew… he didn't care.
Finally, he shifted his gaze away from her as if she no longer existed and bent down slightly, picking up Shen Xuan into his arms.
The little boy wrapped his arms around his father's neck, burying his face into his broad shoulder, still sniffling quietly.
"Let's go," Shen Xiao said simply, his tone dismissive and cold.
Bai Zhi rose gracefully to her feet, smoothing her peach dress down with elegant fingers. She cast Yueyao one last glance, her eyes gleaming with victorious satisfaction. Then she turned and followed them out of the ward.
The door closed behind them with a soft click.
Silence fell like a heavy curtain.
Yueyao lay frozen on the bed, staring blankly at the white ceiling above her.
Her tears slipped silently down her temples into her hairline, pooling on the pillow until it felt damp and cold against her skin.
Her chest rose and fell with ragged, shallow breaths as she felt the last remnants of her dignity crumble into nothingness.
In that moment, she realised something with chilling clarity.
There was nothing left for her in this world.
Not love.
Not family.
Not even her son.
And in that silent, sterile hospital room, Yueyao finally understood…
She had died long ago. She just hadn't been buried yet.
The sterile silence pressed down on Yueyao like a lead blanket. She didn't know how long she lay there, staring at the blank ceiling above her, her tears drying against her temples, leaving salty trails on her skin.
The door creaked open softly.
"Young Madam…"
Aunt Mei's familiar, trembling voice broke through the numbness surrounding Yueyao.
The elderly woman hurried inside, carrying a small thermos flask and a folded blanket over her arm.
When Aunt Mei saw Yueyao lying there, pale and motionless under the harsh fluorescent lights, her eyes instantly reddened with sorrow.
"Oh, my poor child…" she whispered, setting down the thermos carefully on the bedside table.
She reached out with her wrinkled hand, gently brushing away the stray strands of hair stuck to Yueyao's damp cheeks.