Goodbye, Mr. Regret

How could someone catch such a bad chill and fall into a feverish coma in just a matter of moments?

Timothy frowned, his brows knitting together.

When Henry saw that his mother was just running a high fever and nothing worse,

the worry in his eyes faded. Compared to her, Sheila was in much graver

condition.

Jessica was wheeled into a hospital room.

Timothy followed, pausing outside the door to call Mabel.

"Could you bring over a change of clothes for Mrs. Wheeler? She'll need a full set -inside and out."

"Of course, sir."

He stepped quietly into the room and sat by the bedside, reaching out to feel Jessica's forehead.

Her fever had gone down a little, though she still looked terribly pale and weak.

Was she asleep, or had she simply not yet woken from her delirium?

He gently took her hand, his gaze falling to the bruises ringing her wrist. His heart clenched with guilt.

and

on between him and

was. He barely spent time with women, and he'd never had any messy

explain the truth about Sheila once and for all. He was tired of the endless misunderstandings. It only made both of

another man hovering around her,

him from his

in for a rude

"Dad?"

Henry entered, calling softly.

to his lips, shushing him, and lowered

bed. It's just a fever, isn't it? Why was

reopened and was bleeding

it all Mom's fault to

her. Sheila had tried to apologize, tried to make nice

She's next door. Aren't you

their voices would disturb Jessica, took

into the hallway, softly

latch clicked,

her. Timothy had only pretended to be careful not

second he he

was out, he rushed off to see her.