I Was His Pillow, Now I Leave Him

Chapter 3

In the end, Lillian went to make them.

Brandon was right. She couldn't afford to gamble with her sister's life.

Lillian didn't look at him again, nor did she spare a glance at the smug face of Emilia.

She closed her eyes briefly and walked quickly into the kitchen.

Only by seeing her sister with her own eyes could she find some peace of mind.

As Brandon watched her fragile figure disappear past the kitchen doorway, that inexplicable irritation flared up in his chest once more, only to be quickly interrupted by Emilia's coquettish voice.

"Brandon, look at this crib design! If we put it right by the window, the sun will keep it super warm and cozy..."

Inside the kitchen, Lillian opened the cabinets and, with heavy, stiff movements, took out the baking tools.

It had been a long time since she had last cooked. Ever since she accidentally cut her hand while making matcha pastries for Brandon, he had forbidden her from entering the kitchen or touching any of these things.

Back then, the sheer heartache in his voice had been completely genuine.

Flour drifted through the air. With a sharp sizzle, splashing boiling water scalded the back of her hand, turning it instantly red.

From outside the door, their voices drifted in, "Brandon, let's paint the room blue. It'll look so cute for the baby..."

Inside the kitchen, Lillian's fingers convulsed, and the sharp knife sliced a crimson line across her skin.

"Brandon, do you think we're having a boy or a girl?..."

"Brandon..."

Shrouded by the echoes of "Brandon" from outside the door, Lillian finished making the matcha pastries that Emilia had demanded.

And by now, a full hour had already passed since she had received the phone call.

Hurriedly placing the pastries on the table, Lillian didn't stay a second longer. She grabbed her car keys and rushed out the door.

The hospital was as solemn and grim as ever, and the faint sound of weeping floating through the halls made her heart sink further.

When Lillian rushed to the operating room, the piercing light of the "In Progress" sign suddenly shut off.

The door swung open, and a doctor clad in green surgical scrubs walked out, his face etched with heavy exhaustion and regret. "Ms. Ross, I am so sorry. We did everything we could."

Lillian's legs buckled, and she nearly collapsed to the floor, but a nurse standing nearby caught and held her up.

"How is this even possible? They told me this morning she was just getting worse but was still under observation!" She parted her lips, which trembled violently.

The doctor sighed. "Megan was incredibly stressed out today, apparently after finding out that Mr. Dawson had brought Ms. Foster into the house." He glanced at Lillian's pale face before continuing, "Plus, during the prep for surgery, we lost critical time because we were waiting on Mr. Dawson to sign off on the specialized equipment..."

Lillian closed her eyes weakly. To keep her sister at peace, she had always hidden her grievances and only shared good news about the Dawsons. How could Megan possibly have found out about this at such a critical moment?

Unless someone had intentionally told her.

Covered in a white sheet, Megan Adkin was wheeled out of the operating room.

Lillian moved forward with shaking steps, as if she could still hear her sister's voice calling out her name over and over again.

"Also, Megan left a message for you right before she went under," the doctor added. "She said, 'I don't want to be a burden to you anymore.'"

Lillian's eyes grew bloodshot, the weight of those words suffocating her. It felt as though a thousand blades were piercing her chest, interrogating her: Why was she so useless? Why didn't she leave the Dawsons sooner? Why...

Why did it have to be because of her that her sister lost her life?!

She suddenly collapsed, gripping Megan's cold hand tightly as a tragic, agonizing wail burst from her throat.

It sounded like a sorrowful, blood-curdling cry.

Her sister's stiff body, Brandon's cold eyes, and Emilia's provocative smile flashed before her eyes in a relentless, agonizing loop.

In an instant, an endless darkness washed over her. The last thing she heard was the echo of her sister's voice from when she had first learned to speak, calling her name.

An unknown amount of time passed before Lillian slowly opened her eyes.

Her eyes were dull and glassy as she stared blankly at the ceiling, which felt both familiar and alien.

It wasn't until a deep masculine voice resonated beside her ear that she came back to her senses. "You're awake?"

Lillian turned her head rigidly, inch by inch, to find Brandon sitting by her bedside, looking at her with concern.

The moment she saw him, her fragmented and chaotic memories finally found their anchor.

Her sister was dead. She had died because of Brandon.

Tears cascaded down her face as she gripped Brandon's collar with a deathly grip, sobbing uncontrollably. "Brandon, why?! Why did you let Megan find out about all our messy drama? And why the hell didn't you approve her surgery paperwork in time?!"