Goodbye, Mr. Regret novel Chapter 300

Sheila lay back down on her hospital bed and pulled out her phone to send a quick message.

Henry, noticing that Timothy was still standing in the hallway, tugged his sleeve and whispered, “Dad, aren’t you going in to see Miss Sheila?”

She’s hurt. You should at least check on her.

Jessica was fast asleep in the other room, her IV freshly hooked up. It would be a while before the nurse needed to change her drip.

Timothy and Henry entered Sheila’s room together.

Sheila looked up as they came in, her voice soft but warm. “Timothy, Henry.”

With an effort, she tried to sit up.

Timothy crossed the room in a few strides, grabbed a pillow, and gently tucked it behind her back to help her sit more comfortably.

Watching Timothy’s caring gestures, Sheila felt a fresh wave of bitterness wash over her. He was still so gentle with her—yet she knew his heart was no longer hers alone.

She couldn’t let things go on like this.

How could their love possibly make room for anyone else?

Once the pillow was in place, Timothy steadied her by the shoulders and eased her back. Henry leaned over the side of the bed, worry etched across his small face. “Miss Sheila, are you feeling any better? Does it still hurt?”

Sheila reached out and stroked Henry’s hair, her expression tender. “With you worrying about me, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

Henry pouted, unconvinced. “You’re fibbing. You lost so much blood—how could it not hurt? Will it leave a scar? Miss Sheila, you’re so elegant and pretty. You can’t have a scar!”

Sheila laughed. “Don’t worry, no scars. Last time I got hurt, your dad brought me some special scar ointment from overseas. By the way, where’s your mom?”

At the mention of his mother, Henry’s smile faded. “Mom’s got a fever. She’s still sleeping.”

The memory of the paper-cutting contest made him clench his fists. Unless his mom apologized first, he wasn’t about to speak to her.

She’d barely been around lately. If it weren’t for Miss Sheila keeping him company, he’d have been so lonely, so helpless.

He was still angry.

The room was so quiet, Jessica could hear Timothy’s breathing.

A few minutes passed, and then she heard his footsteps heading toward the door.

Barely three minutes later, she sensed two people entering the room.

Timothy’s voice was hushed. “She’s asleep, be gentle.”

Jessica could tell the nurse was changing her IV. The nurse moved with practiced care, finished quickly, and slipped out of the room.

Silence settled over the room once more.

Jessica heard Timothy tapping on his phone, sending a message.

Pretending to sleep, she lay there so long that eventually, she really did drift off.

At some point, Timothy’s phone rang. He hastily turned the volume down, tiptoed out into the hallway, and answered the call.