You Hit My Heart by Kylie Stanford

Chapter 1965: The Words of a Dying Man

She didn't know how long she had been standing there.

Until her legs went numb, and the weight of her heavy belly made it impossible to continue.

Joyce took a few steps back and sat down on the cold chair.

Dr. Jocelyn's words echoed in her ears, and she felt a wetness in the corner of her eyes, initially unnoticed. It wasn't until this wetness trailed down her neck, chilling her, that she realized she was crying. To be strong was not an easy feat.

"Colonel, would you like to go in and see Mr. Warner? He's still not awake, it might be a while. Maybe an hour, maybe two or three hours. Are you going in to wait? Or would you prefer to wait in the adjacent lounge?"

At that moment, a doctor emerged from inside and respectfully inquired.

Because this was a hospital under the warlord's jurisdiction, they addressed Joyce directly by her military rank.

Joyce heard the voice from above, turned her head, and quietly wiped away the tear stains.

When she looked up again, she had regained her composure. "No, I'll wait here."

She didn't want to go in now. In case Luther woke up, she didn't want him to see her fragile and unable to cope, not wanting him to worry anymore.

"Alright, Colonel, would you like a glass of water?" The doctor asked again.

"No, you go ahead." Joyce waved her hand, motioning for the doctor to leave.

"Alright." The doctor took a few steps forward, then hesitated and came back, reminding Joyce, "Colonel, if you need anything, I'll go prepare the adjacent lounge for you. This is the entrance to the emergency room, there may be other relatives coming in and out later on. It might disturb you."

"I understand." Joyce nodded, not saying anything else. She didn't want to move for the time being.

understand what was on her mind, sighed,

propping her chin

After a while.

more doctors and family members arrived, bringing in patients in urgent need

the doctors ushered the patients

later, another group arrived, bringing in another

in front of the emergency room

like this, bustling every day, constantly showcasing the drama of life and death, with some laughing and some grieving, each

watched them in front of her, some anxious, some worried, some discussing, and she

to witness the comings and goings of life

as Joyce was about to stand up

a conversation

Grandpa is probably really not going to make it. When he was

since first getting sick. He managed to come back from death's door the first two times, but this time might be different. It's all right, every extra year he lived was already a gift from heaven. We spent a lot of

fell ill, his temper has become increasingly irritable, always scolding us. No matter what we do, serving tea, water, or food, taking care of him, he

all over, and painkillers don't work. How can he have a good temper? Look at how he worked his

which, it's true, Grandpa was always stingy. He carefully hid his money, no one knows where it is. Last night, Grandpa suddenly confessed to Mom, admitting to his mistakes when he was young. When Dad was not sick, he had an affair, and gave a lot of money to the other woman. Mom knew about it, endured it for

an awakening? He was so

I was right outside,

was short, that's why he said those

it, something just came to mind. Before Grandpa lost consciousness, he kept tightly holding my hand. He mumbled a string

attention, thinking he was speaking nonsense. Oh, I remember now. 324978!! It's this string of numbers. Given what you all said, Grandpa had

I know Grandpa hid a lot of money, and no one knows his account password. I never thought he would reveal it to you before losing

Grandpa did

say, the words

"That's right."

was just an ordinary

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