The Officer's Runaway Wife and Secret Son novel Chapter 358

Hearing a familiar voice, Rhys's eyelashes fluttered, and he finally parted his lips slightly.

Clara quickly poured the water in.

He choked, and a coughing fit seized him, pulling at some injury that made his whole body tremble.

This wasn't an act. The thought of all his injuries sent a chill through Clara's hands. She couldn't handle something this serious. He needed to go to a hospital.

She picked up her phone and found the number she had saved yesterday.

She'd just have Mia come pick him up. Once he was at the hospital, if he died there, it would have nothing to do with her.

Before she could dial, a burning hot hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

"Don't…"

Rhys's eyes were half-open, his gaze unfocused and vacant. He couldn't see her clearly, but his grip was surprisingly strong.

"Don't call…"

Clara struggled a bit. "I'm calling your aunt to pick you up. You have a fever. You need to go to the hospital."

Rhys stubbornly shook his head, using her for leverage to pull himself halfway up, leaning his entire body against hers. He struggled to lift his eyelids, his gaze landing on Clara's face. He stared for a long time before he seemed to recognize who she was.

"Clara… Clara…"

Confirming it was her, Rhys suddenly went limp, burying his head in the crook of her neck. His scorching breath fanned across her skin.

"It hurts so much… Clara, it hurts…"

He repeated her name over and over.

"Do you still want me?"

An ache resonated within Clara. Her wrist hurt, her neck burned, and a dense wave of sorrow washed over her heart.

To hear Rhys admit he was in pain was something she never thought possible.

She clenched her jaw, steeling herself. "No. If it hurts, go to the hospital. I can't fix you."

"You can." Rhys held her, pleading. "You can fix it. It doesn't hurt when you're here."

Clara thought he must have been fried by the fever. She snapped, exasperated, "Rhys! Are you trying to die?!"

"Yes. I want to die."

A small patch of her clothes quickly became damp and warm against her skin. It was impossible to tell if it was sweat or tears.

"Clara, I was wrong… I was wrong…"

"I was stupid… I shouldn't have hidden things from you, shouldn't have been so arrogant… Punish me. Punish me however you want."

"Just let me stay by your side. You can hit me, curse me, get your revenge on me, torture me. Anything."

"Treat me like a stray you found on the street, or use me for whatever you need."

"But don't throw me away…"

"Don't push me onto someone else… and don't give yourself to someone else…"

Clara stood there, stiff as a board, feeling the hands around her waist squeezing the air from her lungs.

But what made it even harder to breathe were his words.

A sober Rhys would rather die than say things like this.

But because he was so delirious, it made it all the more heartbreaking.