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

we've found her. Mrs. Lawson was taken to Riverside General Hospital, the one close to

hung up and stepped into

full check-up, having noticed something concerning, but Jessica didn't want anyone else to know about her 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

was empty. He asked

chest burned with

phone and, almost without thinking, dialed Jessica's number. Then he remembered she'd blocked him.

in the car-sick and desperate—she'd removed his number from her blocked

calmly added

picked up, which only poured

up—an unread message. He opened it: a missed call alert from

twisting his thoughts. He quickly tried her number again,

his call just now