The doctor didn’t look very optimistic. He simply shook his head, looking at Margaret. "We can’t do anything. She has to endure as long as she can." Margaret felt helpless. If she had a way to share the pain, she could have; however, this pain and suffering were something no one could share with anyone. All she could do was stay by her side and look after her, and she was going to do so till the end. "Thank you, doctor," Xander said, his voice deep and remorseful. "Please come with me. I will escort you." He then looked at Margaret, who nodded to him in understanding. Xander gestured to the doctor before escorting him out politely. When they were gone, Margaret turned and looked into the room. From the door, she could see Brenda lying on the bed, looking a lot weaker and frailer than she was before. She now no longer looked like the iron businesswoman she was once known as. The woman they were used to looking tall and elegant was now lying on the bed, getting tormented every day. Margaret blinked away the tears that were brimming in her eyes before she walked into the room. "Madam!" she called out softly. Googlᴇ search 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹✶𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲✶𝗻𝗲𝘁 Brenda opened her eyes and looked up. "Margaret, ..." her voice was low and weak. She paused to study the woman’s face before a faint smile curled her lips —one that was still hinting at tease. "Did I scare you again?" Margaret looked at the lady before nodding slowly. "Yes, you did, Madam. You got us really scared." Brenda shook her head and tried to chuckle. But that needed strength, and she could muster that up. Still, she tried. "You don’t have to get scared every time. Get used to it so that when the day actually comes, you won’t feel anything. Practice it enough to excel at it, Margaret. I have ... taught you better." "You have taught me so much, and that’s why it hurts to see you , madam," Margaret tried to hold back her sob. "There is nothing to feel hurt about," Brenda kept her smile. "This is the phase all of us have to go through. For me, it’s just a little unbearable, but when I’m gone, it will be better. It won’t hurt this much then." Margaret didn’t know what she should say. The lady has always been so optimistic about her death that it becomes impossible to express one’s thoughts. "Madam, you are already . Shall we ask Arwen to visit you? It’s time, and she should know." Brenda heard her and looked away. She didn’t reply immediately; instead, she thought for a moment before speaking. "Even I want to see her, Margaret. I haven’t seen her in a while, and thinking that I might not ever, it’s just making my heart clench in pain. But ..." She shook her head, dismissing the idea, "I can’t let her see me . All I want that her to remember me from my best days. Not —looking weak and ugly." "But she is your granddaughter, Madam. She deserves to know about your situation," Margaret said with a frown. "What if she regrets and blames you tomorrow?" "L-Let her blame," Brenda said as though she had already prepared herself. "This wouldn’t be just one thing she would be blaming me for." She turned and looked at Margaret. A slow, self-blaming smile curving his lips, "Let her blame. I won’t be here anymore to see her blame me." "Margaret," she cut her in, "you ... you have no consideration for the dying old lady. For how long more are you going to make me talk? I am tired already, and I need to sleep." Margaret understood. Nodding, she said, "You can take your rest first, Madam. I will be here looking after you." Brenda gazed at her and nodded. Margaret then turned and walked to the couch nearby. She sat down and watched, still silently praying that things would become better. Some miracle happens, and everything could change. However, miracles as such only happened in fantasies. Not in reality. In reality, sufferings never meet the magic. The pains like these don’t end. The next day, in the hotel room — The curtains were tightly drawn, but faint streaks of morning light still managed to sneak in through the distant window, painting soft lines across the room. On the bed, Zenith stirred, her body shifting slightly under the covers. Her breathing steady and deep through the night, grew uneven as though her body sensed the weight of consciousness returning. She twisted, pressing her cheek into the pillow, reluctant to wake. Yet the ache in her body and the lingering warmth of unfamiliar comfort nudged her closer to awareness. Her eyes fluttered, once, twice, before her heavy lids slowly lifted. For a long moment, her vision blurred, catching the muted light filtering in. The air smelled faintly of fresh linen and the cool trace of water; soothing compared to the chaos that had consumed her the night before. At the remembrance of it, her eyes snapped open wide. She sat up with a jerk and desperately looked around, trying to make sure the night was nothing but a nightmare that had no existence in reality. However, the unfamiliar room only evidence that whatever happened the last night wasn’t a nightmare but a part of reality she would never be able to forget. Even though Ryan appeared at the right time and saved her, what she went through was something she wouldn’t forget. As she was about to think more about it, suddenly she got flashes of the last night. How Ryan appear to save her at the right time ... just when she was about to get ruined? How he carried her out from that place and then brought her to this ... hotel ... She paused when the flashes didn’t cease there; rather, they continued further. From the bathroom ... to the bed and then —