Loved You Once But He's My Forever (Chloe) novel Chapter 482

Whitney's greatest regret after leaving the island was not saying a proper goodbye to Taylor.

She had left without parting on better terms, and that choice weighed heavily on her heart.

When she first heard the news of his death, the sorrow consumed her. Now, knowing he was alive, she refused to let herself carry that kind of regret again.

Taylor leaned forward, his head bowed as his hands tightened slowly around her waist.

This time, his voice held nothing back. It was his own, steady and sincere concern. "Take care of yourself, alright? Don't give me any reason to worry."

Whitney's fingers clung to his shirt, trembling as her tears fell unchecked. Her response was barely above a whisper, "I will."

He released her gently and placed a hand on her face, wiping away the tears.

Her small face seemed almost fragile in his palm, the contrast undeniable.

His gaze lingered with unspoken grief. "You've lost weight again. You need to eat well, stay healthy, and live your life fully."

Her tears wouldn't stop. Even as he wiped them away, more streamed down. She looked up at him, her voice breaking. "And what about you?"

"I still have a job to do."

He took a necklace of multicolored threads from his pocket and placed it carefully around her neck. "I made sure to get you this charm. Keep it on. Don't take it off."

Through her tears, she managed a small, broken laugh. "You, of all people, believing in something like this?"

"If it means you'll be safe, then yes. I'll believe in every god and bow to every statue, no matter where I find one." His voice softened further. "Whitney, I have to leave."

"Taylor," she called, desperation lacing her words. "Don't you dare die. You owe me your whole life."

He rested a hand lightly on her head, offering a gentle smile that barely masked his pain. "I'll remember that."

Reluctantly, Whitney's hands let go of his shirt, though her eyes betrayed the worry she felt.

Taylor adjusted his coat and walked toward me. His voice lowered as he spoke. "Keep an eye on Alisa."

Then, with a stethoscope in hand, he stepped toward the door. His tone grew louder, more professional. "Mrs. Bolton, Ms. Sander will need rest over the next few days. Make sure she avoids drafts, sticks to light meals, and doesn't push herself too hard."

"Thank you, Dr. Mervin," I replied. "If we need anything else, I'll contact you."

He nodded once. "Of course."

Without another glance, Taylor picked up his medical bag and left.

I entered Whitney's room, shutting the door behind me. From the corner of my eye, I caught Alisa standing near the window, her gaze fixed on the scene outside.

Whitney pressed her hands and face against the glass, watching Taylor's figure grow smaller in the distance.

He must have felt her eyes on him, but this time, he didn't turn around.

Alisa's motives remained shrouded in doubt, yet there was no escaping the feeling that she concealed something.

Her silence, especially about the child, spoke volumes.

Whitney had followed him relentlessly on barefoot from her room to the balcony. The sorrow in her gaze was impossible to miss.

I sighed, my heart heavy with understanding. Twenty years of shared life, whether as lovers, family, or close friends, creates a bond that runs deeper than mere affection.

Their relationship reminded me of the fish and the water—two entities whose existence was entwined beyond reason.

The fish might dream of freedom, leaping toward the shore to escape the water's hold. But the instant it landed on dry land gasping to breath, it would learn a painful truth. It wasn't the water that needed the fish—it was the fish that could not survive without the water.

"Whitney," I called gently, "don't forget what he said. Your fever just broke. You need to come back inside."

She hesitated before nodding. "Okay."

She returned to her bed and lay down, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the threads of the necklace that now rested against her skin.

Her voice was barely above a whisper when she asked, "I'm pathetic, aren't I? He's the one who hurt our family, and yet ... "

I ran my fingers through her hair, offering some comfort. "That's not for me to decide. If you looked at it from the Carlyns' side, we'd be the villains. Instead of dwelling on the past, focus on living in the now. Just live in a way you won't regret."