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Chapter 78 Awakening
Gently peeling back the quilt. Nathaniel observed that Freya’s skin was marred with old wounds. A cigarette burn scarred her left rib. She was clad in a loose hospital gown that concealed her lower abdomen. There can’t be any injuries there, can there? Nathaniel pondered. He closed his eyes, a wave of desolation washing over him, making him feel almost suffocated. He quietly took a seat beside Freya’s hospital bed. Ozzy, having spent the entire night vigilantly watching over Freya’s ward, dared not sleep. He turned to look at Nathaniel, who was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. Ms. Gomez’s left hand had been severed by Mr. Morgan, leading to her imprisonment. Upon hearing this, they all felt that Mr. Morgan had crossed a line, but he was blinded by his hatred. His affection for Freya had been longstanding, yet he had never confessed it.
Nathaniel spent the majority of his time in the intensive care unit. Freya, having survived, was eventually able to breathe independently, no longer needing the ventilator. On the fifth day, she regained consciousness. She had been surviving on nutrient solutions, and when she woke up, it felt surreal, like a dream. She dreamt of her family, her loving parents, and her adorable younger brother, as well as her friends from various grades. She dreamt of her anxiety about mastering the piano to win the competition.. She also dreamt of Nathaniel, the one who had wanted to kill her. Once the ventilator was removed, each breath she took felt as painful as a knife wound. Her blurry vision gradually cleared, and the first name she uttered was, “Peyton!”
“She’s okay; don’t worry.” Freya felt as though she was in hell when she heard a voice from the side. She woke up abruptly, the sound causing her body to tremble uncontrollably. She turned to see Nathaniel sitting next to her. She thought she was hallucinating again. She wanted to rub her eyes, but an IV line was attached to the back of her hand, and other medical wires were still connected to her body. She merely glanced at the man before her. His expression was complex, a mix of desperation and a murderous intent. Freya looked at Nathaniel, unsure if he had been involved in the earlier swimming pool incident. There was no denying his cruelty towards her. If he wanted to kill her, he had numerous ways and means.
Silently, the two exchanged glances. Nathaniel wondered if the answer would drive him mad as he watched Freya ask, word for word, “Three years ago, did you push Abigail down? Or did she…” “I pushed her!” she blurted out. Freya’s voice was hoarse, but her response was unequivocal. She had accepted the injustice of the case three years ago and had no intention of revisiting the past. It made no difference to bring it up again. Why did Nathaniel ask that question?
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The President’s Regret
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