My Son Hated My Hugs, Then Cried Over My Cold Body

Nathan Delgado's germaphobia was severe. Every time we made love, he had to shower three times afterward.

Even our children inherited it. If I so much as touched them, they'd burst into tears and scramble to wash their hands.

But I had always loved chasing what didn't want to be caught. Every single time, with relentless cheer, I'd force a bear hug on the three of them who couldn't stand a speck of dirt.

Until the day his childhood sweetheart and I were in the same car accident, both of us soaked in blood.

When only one rescue slot remained, Nathan didn't hesitate. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Felicity's heart is already weak. With the way you carry on all the time—"

"Just give it to her. You're a doctor anyway. Whatever happens, you shouldn't die."

The system's electronic voice rang out inside my head.

【Die at Nathan Delgado's hands and the mission is complete. You may return to your original world. Does the host accept?】

I watched Nathan and our son hold his childhood sweetheart despite their germaphobia, both of them wary, bracing for me to cling and fight the way I always did.

Yes. By all my usual patterns, I'd have thrown a tantrum, rolled on the ground, latched on and wheedled until they gave in and chose me.

But this time I only smiled. My voice was flat. "Take her."

——

The nurse beside me was sweating, her words frantic with urgency.

"Dr. Pruitt, you have the rare panda-blood type. This impact almost certainly damaged your organs. You're losing too much blood. Your condition is ten times more dangerous than Miss Fox's, easily. You can't afford to wait. You have to be treated first!"

I let my gaze drift, indifferent, to the spot not far off where Nathan held Felicity Fox tight against him. The man who'd been a severe germaphobe his whole life now ignored the blood smeared all over himself, gently patting her back to soothe her.

Our son, John Delgado, stood to one side, his eyes wary and distant as he shielded Felicity, like a small beast bristling with spines, glaring at me, terrified I'd come rushing over the way I always had.

In everyone's mind, I, Belinda Pruitt, had always been willful and clingy, never letting go of Nathan.

They were all waiting for me to cry and cling and force Nathan to choose me.

But I just leaned there and repeated it softly: "Take her first."

At my words, Nathan's deep eyes settled heavily on me, carrying a flicker of disbelief he couldn't quite hide.

He had never seen me this quiet, this compliant.

In the past, the smallest slight would send me into chaos. Now, with my life hanging by a thread, I was calm as a stranger looking in from outside.

He started to say something, but Felicity, buried in his chest, sobbed that she was scared.

In an instant Nathan pulled his gaze back from me, his eyes and heart full of nothing but the woman in his arms.

He bent his head, murmured a few gentle words to comfort her, then turned back to me, his tone carrying a perfunctory reassurance.

"Wait here like a good girl for the ambulance. We'll get Felicity there first, make sure she's all right, and I'll come straight back for you."

I gave a soft answer. "Mm."

Flat. No accusation. Not a trace of my usual clinging.

Nathan's eyes darkened all at once, and an inexplicable, strange unease rose up from somewhere deep inside him.

But Felicity's crying kept reaching him, and he had no time to dwell on it. Holding her, leading our son by the hand, he hurried into the ambulance that had arrived first and left in a rush, never once looking back at me.

A few minutes later, the second ambulance pulled up in a hurry.

The emergency doctor who came with it was a colleague who knew me. He rushed to my side, took in my injuries, and his face filled instantly with disbelieving gravity as he gasped under his breath.

"Dr. Pruitt… your vitals are already below the danger line. How could you force yourself to stand there and give way? You're a physician too. You of all people should know how dangerous your injuries are!"

I tugged at the corner of my mouth, nothing but cold detachment in my heart.

Of course I knew. I was dying.

And it suited the system perfectly. It suited the disappointment I'd been storing up for so long.