Belated Moonlight: He Regretted Only After I Left-Chapter 142: Let Me Hold You for a While

Stella Sterling felt as if something had struck her heart hard, leaving it sore and swollen.

She closed her eyes, her wet eyelashes sticking together.

It was unclear how much time had passed before the light in the emergency room finally went out.

The door opened, and the doctor came out with a relatively calm expression: "The wound has been re-stitched, blood loss was excessive, and rest is needed. Fortunately, no vital organs were damaged, but this ordeal was severe. Bed rest is necessary, or else another rupture would be troublesome."

Stella’s heart that had been hanging in suspense heavily fell back into place, her legs grew weak, and she almost collapsed. Julian Sullivan, standing beside her, reached out to support her.

"Thank you, doctor." Her voice was hoarse beyond recognition.

Shane Donovan was wheeled back to the VIP ward, still under the effects of anesthesia. He lay quietly, his face pale, and his lips devoid of any color.

Stella sat by the bedside, cautiously holding his uninjured hand and pressed it against her cheek.

His hand was cold, and she gently rubbed it, attempting to warm it up.

Julian Sullivan leaned against the window, lit a cigarette, but didn’t smoke it, letting it burn.

"Mr. Sullivan, what exactly happened?" Stella looked up at him, her voice low.

Julian flicked the ash off his cigarette, speaking calmly: "He jumped out of the car before the explosion, fell into the river. My people were nearby, so we picked him up. He was severely injured, so we kept him hidden here to recover, fearing the perpetrators would find out he wasn’t dead and attempt it again."

He spoke nonchalantly, but Stella could imagine the danger involved.

Explosion, drowning, severe injuries...

"Why... didn’t you tell me?" Her voice trembled.

Julian glanced at her, and the gaze behind his glasses was devoid of warmth: "Tell you? With Shane Donovan lying there half-dead, any move on your part would alert them, and we’d all be finished." 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

He paused, a wry smile tugging at his lips: "Besides, when he was in a coma, no one calling him would have helped; he seemed like a living corpse. If it weren’t for later..."

He didn’t finish, but the meaning was clear.

It was her name that forcibly pulled him back from the abyss.

Stella didn’t say anything more, lowering her head to look at Shane’s sleeping face, her heart aching.

...

Shane Donovan woke up in the middle of the night.

As the anesthesia wore off, the pain from the wounds screamed sharply.

He frowned tightly, groaned, and opened his eyes.

His vision was first blurry, then focused on the figure dozing by the bedside.

Stella was exhausted, holding his hand, sleeping by the bedside.

Dark circles framed her eyes, and tear stains were still visible on her cheeks.

He gazed at her quietly, not moving, afraid of waking her.

The injured arm lay stiffly, while the other hand, under her head, felt her warm breath on his fingertips.

Julian had already left, leaving only the two of them in the ward, accompanied by the rhythmic beeping of the machines.

He watched her for a long time, then slowly lifted his usable hand, trying to touch her face.

The moment his fingers brushed her eyelashes, Stella woke up with a start.

She raised her head abruptly, meeting his deep eyes.

"You’re awake?" Her voice carried the huskiness and delight of someone just awakened, and she immediately stood up to press the call button, "Are you uncomfortable anywhere? Does the wound hurt? Do you need some water?"

Her torrent of questions came at once, flustered and frantic.

Shane didn’t answer, merely looked at her, his gaze seemingly pulling her in.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, his voice dry and hoarse: "Why cry."

Only then did Stella realize she was again shedding tears, hastily wiping them away with the back of her hand, the more she wiped, the more they flowed.

He sighed, grasping her wrist with his uninjured hand, with a force gentle yet inescapable.

"Stop wiping." He said, thumb gently caressing her wrist bone, "It’s ugly."

Stella was both angry and pained, wanting to glare at him, but the tears fell even more fiercely.

The nurse soon came in, conducted a brief check, reminded them of some precautions, and left.

The ward fell silent once more.

"Come here." Shane said.

Stella hesitated for a moment before approaching the bed.

He exerted force with his arm, pulling her into his embrace.

Afraid of touching his wound, Stella didn’t dare struggle, passively following the force, cautiously half-lying on his uninjured side.

His embrace carried a strong scent of medicine mixed with his crisp, clear scent, still domineering despite its weakness.

"Shane Donovan, your injury..." She shifted uneasily.

"Don’t move." His chin rested on her head, the sound resonating from his chest, "Just let me hold you for a while."

Stella immediately stilled, stiffly enveloped in his arms.

"Did they bully you?" He suddenly asked, his tone indifferent.

Stella’s nose tingled, and she shook her head, burying her face in his neck, "No."

"Liar." He whispered, arms tightening, "I heard everything."

Stella didn’t speak again, only hugged his lean waist even tighter.

All her grievances, fear, and despair found an outlet in that moment, transforming into silent tears that soaked his hospital gown.

He felt the wetness on his shoulder, his gaze darkened, like a frozen pool.

"It’s okay now, I’m back." He patted her back, voice low and cool, "The debts will be settled, one by one."

He said it plainly, yet there was a bloody undertone between the lines.

Neither of them spoke again, and the silence flowed through the ward.

His body temperature was higher, the warmth seeping through his clothes, so comforting it almost brought tears.

Stella’s nerves, taut for days, finally relaxed, and drowsiness swelled over her.

Shane listened to the gradually even breathing from the person in his arms, watching as she slipped into slumber.

She had fallen asleep, her eyelashes still damp, her cheek pressed against his neckline.

His gaze deepened, gliding over the faint finger marks on her slender wrist — left from when she was roughly handled by bodyguards at The Donovan Family’s house.

Fury churned in his eyes, though he suppressed it with force.

He gently adjusted his position to make her sleep more comfortably, keeping his injured arm stiffly at rest, while the other held her securely.

The next morning, seeing Shane Donovan still asleep, Stella quietly left the ward, intending to buy some porridge.

As she reached the corner of the corridor, she bumped into Rhys Lennox leaning against the wall.

A pile of cigarette butts lay by his feet, and even his golden hair seemed dulled in the dim light.

Seeing her come out, he looked up at her, his expression complicated.

Stella was the first to speak, "About yesterday, thank you..."

"No need." Rhys interrupted her, his voice deep.

He stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly smirked, "Now that he’s back, are you... happy?"

Stella found his question strange but nodded nonetheless, "Yes."

Rhys’ Adam’s apple bobbed, feeling an inexplicable frustration swelling in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

He instinctively raised a hand to smoke, only for Stella to slap it away, "No smoking in the hospital."

Her tone was familiar, reminiscent of when she caught him smoking at the law firm.

Yet Rhys found the tone grating.

He smirked wryly, with his usual nonchalance, pressing the cigarette out in the sand tray of a nearby trash bin.

"Just trying to wake myself up with a smoke." His gaze drifted past her, toward the closed ward door, "How’s my eldest brother doing?"