Hold On Mr.! Your Sweetheart is a Real Queen-Chapter 742: No breathing

Back then, she was young, thin-skinned, utterly bullied by him to tears and hate. Due to his status, she didn’t dare voice her protests, but after the movie ended, seeing her eyes red from crying, he laughed at her while pulling her into the men’s restroom cubicle.

Compared to the past Robert Stephens, now this man merely holding her hand lightly already seemed quite gentlemanly.

Yet, she didn’t know why, but she felt even more panicked than before.

Obviously, there were only three people in the movie theater. Even if George Stephens found out, it wouldn’t be a big deal, not the shameful situation from the past, but her heart still couldn’t calm down.

She even felt like her face was blushing too.

She sat on the chair, not daring to move, until the man’s head gently turned and rested on her shoulder.

"Charlotte."

He softly called out her name.

Very gently, like a voice calling out from deep within his throat.

Tender, low, and almost a sigh.

Charlotte Smith couldn’t resist turning her head to look at his face, and then she felt his grip on her hand suddenly loosen.

Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat.

Her pupils contracted sharply for a moment, and she instinctively reached out to catch the man as he suddenly collapsed.

The unsupported body, heavy like a wall, and Charlotte couldn’t catch him, being pressed down onto the seat, his cold face gently buried against her neck, close like lovers.

But there was no breath.

The theater’s lights suddenly came on, staff and undercover police rushed in from outside, moved the man pressing on her away and carried him off.

The overly bright light stimulated her retina, and when the lights came on, she couldn’t see anything, feeling as if she was submerged in ice water, her senses gradually frozen away.

Someone seemed to be approaching, blocking the light above her head, urgently saying something to her, but it was as if she suddenly turned foolish, the familiar sounds becoming strange characters, unable to be processed and understood, even the sounds becoming blurred.

Her consciousness gradually sank into a blank whiteness.

Only her right hand, just held by the man, could vaguely feel the coldness of his palm.

Throughout, they had never warmed each other.

No matter how close, their palms were cold.

Never truly connected in spirit.

*

Like a person drowning, suddenly breaking the surface, breathing in a gulp of oxygen.

She suddenly opened her eyes.

All around was pitch black.

Outside the window, the cool moonlight spilled in.

For a moment, her soul felt adrift and bewildered, as if having experienced a long dream, where inside was dark and cold.

She slowly sat up, only then realizing she was in a hospital room, lying on a hospital bed, a needle in the back of her hand.

Hospital, ward...

Her brain felt like it was being forcefully pierced with a needle, even though she didn’t understand why, her body reacted first, abruptly throwing off the blanket and jumping from the bed, rushing outside.

"Where are you going?"

Someone at the doorway caught her, a crisp female voice with a hint of impatience. Charlotte instinctively tried to shake her off, unsure if it was due to strength or something else, she couldn’t break free, but instead, she was held even tighter.

She gradually became anxious, shouting at the person, "Let go of me!"