His facial expression was calm, but the hand hanging by his side trembled slightly.
With determined steps, he walked forward, step by step.
The servants along the way gave way unconsciously...
In the room, it was quiet; no one spoke.
Lucas Scott walked to the bed and looked at Stella York, quietly asleep.
Her eyes were closed tight, her face unnaturally pale, like someone who never sees the sunlight. Yet today, her pallor seemed different from usual.
"Stella..." Lucas Scott gently touched her cheeks with his hand, murmuring softly, as if afraid to wake his sleeping lover.
Seeing her unresponsive, his heart suddenly tightened.
He had already reminded himself not to hope too much to avoid being unable to bear the disappointment, yet in the end, he couldn't help but have expectations.
For so many years, too many doctors had said her condition improved, but whether she would wake up was left to fate...
Fate is the most ethereal thing.
