Goodbye, Mr. Regret

She still needed to confirm which hospital it was.

When Timothy left the house, he'd only caught a glimpse of the ambulance's rear bumper-he hadn't seen which hospital it belonged to.

Henry was still half-conscious when they brought him out, his cheeks flushed with fever.

Timothy's expression was grim.

If Jessica had done her job, Henry wouldn't be suffering through this.

They settled Henry into a hospital room while Timothy waited anxiously outside. He questioned the nurse and learned that Henry's high fever had triggered the coma-a mild case of pneumonia, they said. Recovery would take some time, but there was no need to worry.

Timothy stepped into the room. Sheila was gently wiping Henry's face with a damp cloth. When she noticed Timothy, she looked up and said, "Timothy, you should go check on Jessica."

Without waiting for a reply, Sheila turned her attention back to Henry, carefully cleaning his hands.

Timothy's frustration only deepened. These were things Jessica should have been doing.

rang. He stepped out of the room

to Riverside

and stepped into the

cancer. She told the doctor she'd already been tested at Capital City Hospital and insisted she needed to go pick up her results there. Reluctantly, the doctor had

rushed into the hospital, the room was empty. He asked around

chest burned

dialed Jessica's number. Then he remembered she'd blocked him. Just as he was about to hang

been trapped in the car-sick and desperate—she'd removed his number from her blocked list so she could call him

ended automatically, Jessica calmly added Timothy's

picked up, which only

unread message. He opened it: a missed call alert

tightened, frustration twisting his thoughts. He quickly tried

she'd seen his call just now