My Birthday, My Downfall novel Chapter 78

Watching their retreating figures, a sharp, needle-like pain pricked my heart.

Yet, I couldn't help but find it all deeply ironic.

In my past life, I had gotten my wish to marry Hank, but it never brought the happiness I'd hoped for.

On my birthday, I had wished for nothing more than to spend a simple day with him.

Instead, he said, "Birthdays are a waste of time. I'm busy; I don't have time for you."

Later, I saw pictures of him and Lauren hiking and camping together in her WhatsApp updates.

When I had a severe stomach ulcer and asked him to accompany me to the hospital for a checkup, he replied, "I'm not a doctor. Even if I go with you, it won't make you better. Stop bothering me."

Later, I saw him accompanying Lauren to the hospital for something as trivial as a cold.

When I was eight months pregnant and got into a car accident that caused massive bleeding, the doctor called him urgently to come to the hospital and sign the surgical consent forms.

His response was, "Is she dead? If not, don't bother me."

As his words fell, Lauren's excited voice came through the phone, "Hank, this concert was so worth it! They're all on stage now..."

The call ended abruptly, and blood continued to flow uncontrollably beneath me, soaking half the bed in no time.

Recalling the wrenching pain in my chest before I died in my past life, I could barely breathe.

Clutching my aching heart, I forced a pale smile.

Hank Dawson, if you don't love me, then I won't love you anymore either.

That night, Marco walked me home, just in time to meet the curfew set by my father.

The next morning, I groggily reached for my phone to check the time.

Lauren's message was right there, glaringly prominent.

She had sent a photo of Hank sleeping at her place, with the caption: "Hank stayed over at my house last night to keep me company."

Looking at her message, I didn't feel a single ripple of emotion. I simply replied, "Oh."

He didn't mention anything about last night and instead wrote casually: "The yam and pork rib soup you made last time was pretty good. Make some for me again today. I'll be waiting at the office."

"Oh, and don't put any scallions in it."

Seeing his message, my expression darkened slightly.

Hank didn't have a habit of avoiding scallions.

In fact, he thought they added flavor to soup.

I thought for a moment before replying, "Alright."

After sending the message, I decisively opened a food delivery app and randomly selected a yam and pork rib soup to be sent to his office.

That evening, I went out for dinner with Marco.

As soon as we arrived at the reserved restaurant, we saw Hank and Lauren walking in, arm in arm, their faces lit with cheerful smiles.

The moment Hank saw us, he instinctively let go of her hand and walked toward us.