The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 463

Petty shifted her gaze to Jackson sitting beside the bed, remaining completely silent.

Her hollow eyes had lost every trace of light.

"I went and got your favorite savory meat pie," Amy said, her voice impossibly gentle. "Just have one bite."

Petty's lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. Instead, tears slipped silently from the corners of her eyes, tracing down her pale cheeks.

Jackson's eyes were already bloodshot before she woke up, and now, watching her suffer, the tears spilled over. He clutched her hand tightly, his voice trembling as he coaxed her, "Don't cry, sweetheart. Just eat a little bit, okay?"

Finally, a ragged, broken whisper slipped past Petty's lips.

"I'm not hungry."

Hans felt a brutal lump form in his throat. He turned his head sharply away, unable to bear looking at her.

"Just one bite. Please?" Jackson begged, his voice cracking.

But Petty didn't respond. She just closed her eyes in utter exhaustion.

Hans's phone vibrated. The world-renowned psychiatrist he had flown in from abroad had just arrived in Cabinda. He immediately turned and walked out of the room, with Amy following close behind to help receive the doctor.

"Please, Miss Petty. Be good and try to eat something." Jackson's heartbroken pleas echoed softly in the quiet room.

But Petty seemed miles away, as if she couldn't hear a word.

Jackson stared at her gaunt, sunken face, his chest heaving with silent sobs as he bowed his head.

Suddenly, he felt a weak hand gently rest on the top of his head.

Jackson froze. He snapped his head up, a spark of desperate hope in his eyes. "Miss Petty..."

But her next words crashed over him like a bucket of freezing water.

"Don't worry about me, Jackson. I'll eat when I get hungry."

She hadn't eaten a single thing in twenty-four hours, and she had violently thrown up the few bites she managed to force down at lunch. How could she possibly not be hungry?

It wasn't that she wasn't hungry. It was that her body was actively rejecting life.

The radiant, spirited woman he once knew had been reduced to a fragile shell, relying entirely on IV drips just to stay alive.

Hans was right. Every agonizing thing she had endured was completely his fault. His selfish greed had violently shoved her deeper and deeper into the abyss.

He had single-handedly orchestrated her destruction.

He truly didn't deserve to be in her presence.

Franco brought her hand to his lips, pressing a trembling kiss against her skin. "Petty."

"I know I was wrong."

As if trapped in a nightmare, Petty's brow furrowed tightly, her eyelashes fluttering in distress. A broken, raspy murmur slipped from her lips—

"What did you..."

Franco froze. His entire body went rigid as his bottomless, ink-black eyes locked onto her pale face.

His cold fingers gently smoothed out the crease between her brows. Watching her slowly settle back into a steady, even breathing rhythm, Franco stared at her sleeping face and whispered into the dark, "It's me."