My Pretty Sweetheart (Arianna) novel Chapter 825

I pulled over a stool and sat next to Hendrix's bed, looking at him. Due to the burn on his back, he had to lie on his stomach.

As I looked at his handsome side profile, I thought to myself, "Are we indebted to each other?"

Perhaps due to the fact that it had been so many years, we weren't able to distinguish whether our relationship was based on the secular concept of love, or our mutual guilt over the years.

We couldn't let each other go due to the guilt in our hearts.

Hendrix woke up at night. The doctor changed his bandages and instructed me, saying, "It'll be extremely painful after the anesthesia wears off. The patient can't get out of the bed for now, you'll have to take note to change his urine bag and clean his body, in case he feels uncomfortable."

I nodded. I knew all of that. Thinking about it carefully, it was the first time for me to take care of Hendrix in so many years.

He didn't really get sick much in the past, nor did he ever have any severe illnesses.

He was rather pitiful too. He had already safely gotten through half of his life, but he still had to deal with such an unforeseen incident.

After the doctor left, the nurse carefully reapplied the medicine on his back. The IV fluid was still connected to the back of his hand. Once the nurse was done, she looked at me and said, "The medicine for the wound needs to be changed every three hours. Remember to come get us then."

I nodded and thanked her in a hushed voice.

Shortly after the nurse left, Hendrix woke up. He was lying on his stomach on the bed. His thin lips slightly moved, his throat sounding somewhat hoarse.

I got up, poured some water, and inserted a straw for him to drink. He shook his head and signaled to me to just tilt the glass.

I complied. After drinking some water, he became slightly better. He looked at me and said with ashen lips, "I'm glad you're alright."

Strangely, the first sentence spoken by Hendrix after he woke up made me cry.

I lowered my head and said in a low voice, "I think so too."

He chuckled and lifted his hands to pull me in. I wanted to step away, but at the slightest bit of strength, he was already taking in deep breaths. It was obvious that his actions had pulled at his wounds.

Forget it. It was fine for him to hold me anyway.

My hand was held in his. Probably due to the strong effect of the anesthesia, his hands were icy. It was the first time I felt that his hands were that cold.

He said, "Arianna, I'm sorry, I couldn't be the hero of your dreams. Every time you got hurt, I wasn't able to shield you from all of it. This time was the same. I had initially thought that I could block all the acid away from you, but I still couldn't, and you still got hurt."

He raised his hand and tried to touch the scar on my face, but because his movements were too big, he pulled at his wounds too much, causing him to feel great pain. He withdrew his hand.