Love Burned, She Rose Unscathed

Murray couldn't stand it any longer. After seconds of listening, he hung up and promptly switched his phone to airplane mode. Finally, he had some peace.

Walking through the front door, Murray felt his irritation fade as he sighed heavily.

As he went upstairs, for some reason, he found himself drawn to the kitchen instead.

The kitchen was spotless, with all the utensils neatly arranged, conjuring up images of Roseanne bustling around. She used to spend hours making oatmeal. She'd prepare the ingredients the night before, cleaning and soaking them. By the morning, everything would be ready to be cooked with the oats.

He found it all too cumbersome and asked her not to bother, but he'd come home to find a warm, stomach-soothing oatmeal waiting for him every evening.

Eventually, he stopped protesting, contentedly enjoying the food and her affection.

Lost in thought, suddenly, he heard the front door open from the outside.

"Mr. Sherwood?" Sadie greeted. Beverley had sent Sadie over.

After Murray stormed out of the hospital, Beverley, worried about her son being on his own and unable to cope, asked Sadie to keep an eye on him.

Murray gave a quick order. "Sadie, could you make some oatmeal?" before heading upstairs.

Sadie was left in confusion. Oatmeal again? When in the world was Ms. Cole coming back?

Feeling exhausted and overwhelmed, Sadie put on her apron and reluctantly started to make the oatmeal despite her internal cries of despair.

Once the oatmeal was ready, she took it upstairs, only to find Murray asleep in bed.

His face was pale, and even in sleep, his brows furrowed. Sadie gently placed the oatmeal down and returned to the kitchen to clean up before quietly leaving.

In the middle of the night, Murray slept restlessly, feeling a burning sensation in his stomach.

The cold needle pierced his vein, a liquid flowed in, and gradually, the burning sensation subsided, though he still felt hot.

Beverley stood by the bedside,

watching her son delirious with fever, feeling angry and heartbroken. At ten o'clock, she had tried calling Murray but no one answered. Worried something might happen, she hurried over to the villa.

Just as she feared, upon entering, she found him burning up with fever, delirious and unable to be awakened, repeatedly calling out for Anne.

She immediately contacted the family doctor.

"Dr. Lee, how's Murray?" asked Beverley.

"I've taken his temperature. It's coming down. The fever is ultimately due to his chronic stomach issues. I'll prescribe some medication and have it delivered. Ensure to follow the dosage instructions."

Murray's fingers twitched, and not wanting to disturb his rest, Beverley followed the doctor into the hallway.

After finishing an IV drip, as the

nurse was setting up another,

Murray opened his eyes, saw the

blurry figure, and shielded his eyes with his arm, speaking hoarsely,

"Can borrow your phone to make a call?"

swne

With the phone in hand, he dialed the familiar number. After two rings, the call connected. He swallowed, his throat rough and seemingly blocked, struggling to speak.

On the other end, Roseanne was in a deep sleep, roused by the ringtone. She groped for her phone and answered with a sleepy "Hello?"

However, no one spoke.

Roseanne could barely open her eyes and was ready to hang up, thinking it was the wrong number.