Loved You Once But He's My Forever

Chapter 482 Insane Goal

Whitney's greatest regret after leaving the island was not saying a proper goodbye to Taylor. She had left without parting on better terms, and that choice weighed heavily on her heart.

When she first heard the news of his death, the sorrow consumed her. Now, knowing he was alive, she refused to let herself carry that kind of regret again. Taylor leaned forward, his head bowed as his hands tightened slowly around her waist.

This time, his voice held nothing back. It was his own, steady and sincere concern. "Take care of yourself, alright? Don't give me any reason to worry." Whitney's fingers clung to his shirt, trembling as her tears fell unchecked. Her response was barely above a whisper, "I will."

He released her gently and placed a hand on her face, wiping away the tears.

Her small face seemed almost fragile in his palm, the contrast undeniable.

His gaze lingered with unspoken grief. "You've lost weight again. You need to eat well, stay healthy, and live your life fully."

Her tears wouldn't stop. Even as he wiped them away, more streamed down. She looked up at him, her voice breaking. "And what about you?"

"I still have a job to do."

He took a necklace of multicolored threads from his pocket and placed it carefully around her neck. "I made sure to get you this charm. Keep it on. Don't take it off." Through her tears, she managed a small, broken laugh. "You, of all people, believing in something like this?"

"If it means you'll be safe, then yes. I'll believe in every god and bow to every statue, no matter where I find one." His voice softened further. "Whitney, I have to leave."

"Taylor," she called, desperation lacing her words. "Don't you dare die. You owe me your whole life."

He rested a hand lightly on her head, offering a gentle smile that barely masked his pain. "I'll remember that."

Reluctantly, Whitney's hands let go of his shirt, though her eyes betrayed the worry she felt.

Taylor adjusted his coat and walked toward me. His voice lowered as he spoke. "Keep an eye on Alisa."

Then, with a stethoscope in hand, he stepped toward the door. His tone grew louder, more professional. "Mrs. Bolton, Ms. Sander will need rest over the next few days. Make sure she avoids drafts, sticks to light meals, and doesn't push herself too hard." "Thank you, Dr. Mervin," I replied. "If we need anything else, I'll contact you."

He nodded once. "Of course."

Without another glance, Taylor picked up his medical bag and left.

I entered Whitney's room, shutting the door behind me. From the corner of my eye, I caught Alisa standing near the window, her gaze fixed on the scene outside.

Whitney pressed her hands and face against the glass, watching Taylor's figure grow smaller in the distance.

felt her eyes on him, but this time,

yet there was no

especially about the child,

on barefoot from her room to the

heavy with understanding. Twenty years of shared life, whether as lovers, family, or close friends, creates

me of the fish and the water-two entities

the shore to escape the water's hold. But the instant it landed on dry land gasping to breath, it would learn a painful truth. It wasn't the water that needed the fish-it was the fish that could not survive without the water. "Whitney," I called gently, "don't forget what he said. Your fever just broke. You need

hesitated before nodding.

lay down, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the threads of the necklace

voice was barely ab a whisper

aren't I? He's the one

looked at it from the Carlyns' side, we'd be the villains. Instead of dwelling on the past, focus on living in the now. Just live in a way you won't regret."

"He will. He's in the shadows

replacing her earlier doubts. "Can you book me an appointment with that

in puzzled. "Are

her head. "No.

needs proof that

more. We'll need to act like we didn't see him. You make the appointment, and I'll act like I'm just dealing with

I'll act

a small smile to my lips. "You're

laughed through her exhaustion. "Sis, is that therapist really as handsome as

a quiet laugh, a small reprieve in the midst of

the room. Alisa appeared from the hallway, her expression carefully composed. "Aunt Chloe," she began, her tone laced with concern, "Ms. Sander hasn't left her room in two days. Is she okay? What's

frail," I said, my tone even. "She got caught in the rain a couple of nights ago, came down with a fever, and it only just broke. She's

illness isn't something you can catch. It's more about her heart than

her curiosity growing. "What do you mean

her passed away. It's the kind of

so quiet lately," Alisa murmured. "Poor thing. She's already skin and

we spoke,

house, we rarely exchanged more than a polite nod. The need for propriety kept our interactions brief. Just

a small

toward him, her smile soft and inviting,

secrecy about the baby really come from

with a cold, detached