Whispers Turn to Whimpers: Could He Ever Change? novel Chapter 1230

It wasn’t until this time—until Sherilyn relapsed—that Gilbert finally understood.

He’d always thought he knew the truth. He’d been wrong.

For a moment, Gilbert closed his eyes, fighting back the ache in his chest.

Sherilyn had been getting better. She had almost recovered.

And then he—he had pushed her too far, set off her illness all over again.

“If…,” he began, his voice unsteady, “if she doesn’t get treatment, what will happen to her?”

“No treatment? Why would you even consider that?” Joyce frowned, confused by the question, but answered anyway. “Let me put it this way. With mental illness, if you just ignore it, eventually… it’s no different from cancer. It leads to the same ending—death.”

The words hit Gilbert like a blow to the chest. His breath caught, and for a moment it felt as though his heart had been struck with something heavy.

Sherilyn had told him—she would wither away and fade right before his eyes.

She hadn’t been trying to scare him. She’d been telling the truth.

“I understand. Thank you,” he managed, steadying himself.

“That’s all I have to say.” Joyce gathered her purse, preparing to leave.

“Wait.”

Gilbert’s voice stopped her.

She looked back, puzzled. “Mr. Harrison? Is there something else?”

“Yes.” He nodded, took a deep breath, and pulled out his chair. He stood up and walked around the table to face her directly.

Joyce’s confusion deepened. What was he planning to do?

“Dr. Cooper,” he said quietly, eyes rimmed red with exhaustion and something like shame. “This is long overdue… but thank you. Thank you for reaching out and helping Sherilyn back then.”

If it hadn’t been for Joyce, how would Sherilyn have survived those years, all alone?

As he finished speaking, Gilbert suddenly dropped to his knees before her.

Later, that changed. She began calling him “Gil.”

He let out a soft, bitter laugh. He’d always known he wasn’t a good husband. His feelings for her had come far too late.

Now, with everything laid bare, he saw just how worthless that belated affection truly was.

What was he, really?

When she loved him most, he’d given her nothing in return. When she needed him most, he’d turned away.

He was a terrible man—maybe the worst.

If he wasn’t the absolute worst, who else could possibly take that title?

He was alive, still breathing, yet in this moment, it felt as if he was already dying inside.

He couldn’t move forward, couldn’t go back. Trapped, suffocating—caught between life and death.