Hendrix didn't come into the bedroom. He was probably resting in the study.

The next day.

Despite the clear and bright season, there was a slight drizzle.

I woke up with a sore throat. Insomnia was enough to weaken my immune system, and I was afraid that I caught a cold. There seemed to be a correlation somewhere. As I opened my eyes, Hendrix's face in front of me sank as his hand touched my forehead.

"I might have a fever but I think I'm fine!" I said as I got up from bed.

He got up, poured some water, and gave me the medicine, "Take this medicine and rest. I'll take you to the hospital if you still don't feel better when I get back."

I nodded, laid on the bed, and watched him leave.

My fever failed to subside. I grabbed my personal documents and rode a taxi to the hospital.

Instead of going to the pulmonology department, I went straight to the general practitioner, who was an old man.

young man over, saying, "Measure

they were

at me nervously and sat at the table, asking me

conducting some examinations, he glanced at the old man and at me

at him, indicating that he

and said, "From my examination, there's an internal injury to your

nodded and motioned for the young man to get up. Then, he conducted an examination on

"I'm thirty-one."

and asked, "Do you have

nodded, thought for a moment, and then shook my head. He frowned and said, "Just

I don't have

"Judging by my examination, you must have had a

and told him the truth, "The foetus suffocated to

it will be difficult. You have a weak uterus, and it'll be easy for two lives to be lost as you're in poor health. After your last surgery, the doctor should have

him. Puzzled, I

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