Master of his heart ( Brielle And Max ) novel Chapter 980

In her dream, Brielle had a kid, a handsome little boy who looked just like Max. The three of them went to get a family portrait taken, but the boy kept a straight face, calling it childish and refusing to play along. Max crouched down to coax him, but the kid wasn't having any of it, his stubborn expression a mirror image of Max's.

Brielle chuckled, pulled Max up, and took over the coaxing herself. The child instantly broke into a smile, his tight lips curling up as he sweetly called out, "Mommy."

It was a festive day, and they had made a mountain of dumplings—Max liked to call them pie pockets. He had a knack for making them, shaping them beautifully. The little one still wore his serious face, but once the pie pockets were steamed, he was stuffing them into his mouth, competing with Max to see who could eat more. Brielle watched them with a contented smile, holding her fork.

The dream was too good to be true. No explosions, no flames. It was so perfect she didn't want to wake up, trying to convince herself that the sound of the blast was the dream, that Max holding up the beams was the dream. Max had never been in such a mess, so it couldn’t be real.

Outside the dream, Dustin took the towel and meticulously wiped Brielle's fingers. Another day had passed, and there was still no sign of Brielle waking up. He cleaned each of her fingers thoroughly, and when he looked up, he saw a tear roll down from the corner of her eye, slowly tracing a path down her skin. He couldn't tell what kind of dream she was having, but chances were it wasn’t as beautiful as the last one.

Dustin had temporarily put aside all matters concerning the Lynch family, staying only by her side in the hospital room. The longer it took, the more agitated he became, fearing Brielle might end up in a vegetative state. The doctors said her eyes had been irritated by smoke, and they would have to wait until she woke up to assess the full extent of the damage. During the first few days of her coma, she had also cried incessantly, weeping through the night.

Dustin sighed, just as a call came from overseas. He stood up and walked out into the hallway. Aubree, who had been sitting nearby, quickly moved to take his place, continuing to wipe Brielle's palms. Dustin pressed the answer button, and Raymond's voice came through.

“How is she?”