Sometimes, it was hard to tell right from wrong when one was caught in the middle of something. But when one looked at it from another perspective, things would become clear.
How foolish! Especially since the daughter Dexter had cherished so much had tried to kill him.
Dexter broke down. He was trapped in this nightmare. His tightly shut eyes twitched, and his expression twisted into one of pain and torment.
Myra, who was by his bedside, was startled. She immediately shook him and called out, "Wake up! Please wake up! Darling, what's wrong? Are you having a nightmare?"
After a few shakes, Dexter finally opened his eyes.
The bright light from the lamp blinded him. Myra appeared in his sight, still as beautiful and elegant as he remembered. Even though there were now more strands of white in her hair and a few wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, he still thought she was stunning.
Dexter froze before he came to his senses. Tears streamed down his face. "Darling…"
Hearing the familiar voice, Myra was overwhelmed with surprise and joy. She almost burst into tears. "You… You're better? Have you come to your senses? Do you recognize me?"
Dexter nodded. He held Myra's hand tightly. "You must've had it hard from taking care of me. You must be exhausted."
"As long as you're better…" Myra choked.
She believed that if their roles were reversed, Dexter would have taken care of her just as well.
The two exchanged a look that said everything they needed to without words.
Then, Myra's expression turned grim. "What happened that day? You were fine when I left the hospital. But not long after, you were rushed to the emergency room for attempting suicide!"
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