Chapter 239

Layla had initially chosen to ignore the absurdity of the claim before her, but she found herself unable to suppress a cold, derisive laugh. "Not everyone holds money in such high regard. There are things of far greater value, like dignity. But I suppose someone like you wouldn't understand."

With that, she pushed open the door and stepped into the hospital room.

The man sprawled on the bed was a pitiful sight, his face marred by injuries and his hands swathed in bandages. He was unconscious. The sight of Samuel stirred a shift in Layla's emotions, her anger giving way to concern.

Her nose twitched.

How had Samuel allowed himself to reach such a state? Could it be that he was also grappling with pain and self-inflicted torment, much like her?

Samuel had been the one to call for their separation, and it was Layla who had pleaded for reconciliation. He had coldly informed her of his weariness, and her eyes welled up once again at the memory.

Outside, Layla watched Samuel with concern, fearing he might catch a chill. She tentatively reached out to guide him back inside, but the moment her fingers brushed against him, he seized her hand tightly. "Layla..." he whispered, her name escaping his parched lips.

Just as Joseph had predicted, Samuel repeated her name, each hoarse utterance piercing Layla's heart.

How had they reached this point? Did Samuel have a reason? Doubts swirled in Layla's mind.

But she quickly reminded herself not to get lost in these thoughts.

A breakup was indicative of insufficient love, regardless of the reasons. Layla attempted to pry Samuel's hand off, but each time she tried, his grip tightened, as though he feared losing the most precious person in his life.

"Don't go, Layla, don't leave me...

"Layla..." His plea softened her heart.

That night, Samuel was plagued by a vivid dream. On one side, his mother was being kidnapped by Darwin, teetering on the edge of a cliff, and on the other, Layla stood, her delicate figure draped in a white dress, appearing as ephemeral as a ghost.

He was forced to choose between them, a decision that proved excruciating. In the end, he lost them both. Samuel crumbled to his knees in agony.

His eyes snapped open, bloodshot and wide with fear, as he cried out, "Layla!"

His heart hammered against his ribcage, a rapid, deafening rhythm.

His face was slick with cold sweat.

His gaze drifted to the white ceiling. It was just a nightmare, he realized, relief washing over him.

But then another face swam into his line of sight. Long, black hair framed a delicate face bathed in warm sunlight. Beneath a graceful nose, her lips were slightly pale but soft. Samuel was plunged back into the terror he had just escaped. Was this not a dream?

He looked at Layla anxiously. "Layla..."

"Wake up. Drink the corn porridge." Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. Layla poured the porridge from the thermos, the faint aroma filling the hospital room.

Samuel frowned, uncertainty clouding his features. "Is this a dream?" Layla forced a bitter smile.

She too wished this was all a nightmare, that in reality, they were still together and happy. She paused in pouring the corn porridge, then casually served a bowl. "Drink it."

Samuel continued to regard Layla with a furrowed brow, still unsure if this was a dream or reality. He held his breath, as if afraid to shatter the moment.

His handsome face was tinged with a childlike nervousness and anxiety. It was as though he yearned for confirmation, yet feared the truth might be painful. He was afraid that she might be like a fragile bubble, ready to burst and vanish. If that were the case, he would rather not burst it.

Layla looked at him, a pang of pity tugging at her heart.

If Samuel cared for her so deeply, why had they broken up?

Samuel's right hand was injured, and after a moment's hesitation, Layla offered, "Let me feed you."

As she brought the corn porridge to his lips, Samuel seemed lost in a daze. "Is this a dream?" he murmured, his eyes searching hers. "Is it really you?"

"Open your mouth," she instructed, and Samuel obeyed, his compliance reminiscent of a well-behaved child.

The corn porridge had a subtle taste, a comforting simplicity.

"You... came to see me?" Samuel asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Could I not come?" Layla responded, her face expressionless, her tone devoid of warmth or complaint. "Even if I didn't want to, that scum friend of yours named Joseph would have dragged me here."

"He forced you?" Samuel's brow furrowed in concern. "Damn it! Let him come in."

"Since I'm already here, let's just say everything that needs to be said." Layla's voice was steady as she spooned another mouthful of porridge into his mouth.

"Samuel, we've already broken up."

"So, please stop coming to find me in the middle of the night when you're drunk. And stop calling my name when you're drunk and getting into fights, ending up in the hospital. It's annoying me."

The corn porridge in Samuel's mouth turned bitter in an instant.

"Is that why you came to find me?"

No, it wasn't.

Layla was very clear about her feelings. Even though she hated Samuel, she still couldn't let go of him. Even if she knew that Samuel's injury wasn't serious, she couldn't bear to leave and stayed with him all night.

But there were some things Layla couldn't say, once she said them, there would be no turning back.

So Layla chose silence, defaulting to it.

Samuel's heart ached, but he had no right to blame Layla. "I'm sorry for disturbing your life."

Samuel tried his best to control himself, but every late night, his yearning for her would surge like a bursting dam, uncontrollable.

After drinking half a bowl of corn porridge, Layla placed it back on the coffee table.

Was she leaving?

Samuel didn't have time to think and hurriedly grabbed her wrist.

His palm was burning hot.

"Give me a little more time," Samuel pleaded anxiously.

Layla trembled, her heart pounded, but then she just turned her head and looked at him with coldness and a hint of mockery. "How long?"

Samuel couldn't answer that question.

"Then what am I? The third person? The mistress you keep?" Layla's mockery in her eyes deepened as she laughed coldly. "One day as the third person, I would carry this guilt for a lifetime. I won't wait for you, not even a single day."

Give Samuel a day, and he would ask for two, three... and she would sink deeper and deeper, trapped in this sinful relationship, unable to break free until she could no longer bear it and completely collapsed.

"Sorry," Samuel said despondently.

He had no right to keep her waiting. It was unfair to her.

When he uttered that word, Layla felt a pang of pain in her heart.

"Stop disturbing my life." Layla forcefully pulled her hand away and stormed out, but bumped into Nora in the hallway. Immediately, fury ignited in Nora's eyes.

"It's you again."

"You bitch, how dare you harass Mr. Holland."

Nora stood in her way, not allowing her to leave.

"You are an uncouth bitch!" Nora cursed loudly.

Layla's temples throbbed, and she immediately warned, "I won't allow you to insult my mother."

"Am I wrong? A father who gambled and drank and a mother who abandoned her family raised a shameless bitch like you who specializes in stealing other woman's husbands. No one wants you so you're lacking in love? Bastard!" Nora spat out, her words filled with venom.