Vince’s eyes reddened instantly. “You silly girl, it’s been over three months—why didn’t you ever say a word?”
“When I was diagnosed, the doctor said I’d missed the window for surgery. I only had six months left, so I thought I'd get divorced and spend my last days alone. But as time went on, so many things changed my mind. Like when Ines first wanted to introduce me to Mr. Smith, and he said he could recommend a specialist from abroad to treat my aphasia. I didn’t take the offer. I figured nothing could be fixed in six months, and I couldn’t keep working in animation anyway. But after everything that happened with them—father and son—I started wanting to live for myself. Then, when I unexpectedly spoke again, Herbert’s people said my aphasia could actually be cured...”
Jessica poured out everything she’d kept bottled up, letting Vince see the twists and turns of her heart during those dark days.
Vince felt as if someone was carving up his chest with a knife.
“Does Timothy know?”
Jessica shook her head. “No, he doesn’t.”
“You’re this sick, and he didn’t notice at all?”
A wry smile tugged at Jessica’s lips. “His heart was never with me. Even if I coughed up blood in front of him, it wouldn’t occur to him that I was sick.”
“You actually did cough up blood in front of him, and he didn’t do anything?”
She nodded.
That day, Sheila was hurt and bleeding badly. Timothy only cared about rushing Sheila to the hospital. Whether Jessica was spitting blood or not, he never even glanced her way.
At that moment, Vince felt he’d been far too gentle with Timothy. Earlier today, when he’d seen Timothy coughing up blood, Vince had even felt a pang of sympathy for him out of old friendship.
Now he bitterly regretted it.
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