Half-Hearted: Mr. Sinclair, Stop the Act!-Chapter 219: Reminiscence

The hospital room quickly returned to silence.

Neither of them spoke again.

Claire Grant thought he would mention the "leukemia" issue; even if...even if he didn’t care, he would at least ask a couple of questions, right?

But after a long while, she still hadn’t heard anything.

Soon, as she saw him slightly turn his body, seemingly preparing to leave, she had no choice but to break the silence first.

"Sebastian... I’m sorry."

Upon hearing this, Sebastian Prescott’s gaze landed on her face, partially probing, as if waiting for her to continue.

Suddenly, Claire Grant smiled wryly.

Calmly stating, "Actually, this ’I’m sorry’ is something I should have said to you long ago. More than five years ago, when I was diagnosed with leukemia, I thought my life had already reached its end,

and I believed that my continuously deteriorating condition no longer suited you, so I didn’t want to become your burden and blemish. I made the decision to end our engagement, thinking myself righteous and stubborn,

without considering your feelings or discussing it with you. It left you under much controversy. I’m sorry."

It was unclear when, but Sebastian Prescott had already averted his gaze.

He gave no response.

The engagement between him and Claire Grant was arranged by Old Mr. Prescott when he was too young to understand.

The two grew up as childhood friends, spending their juvenile years when emotions are easily stirred together.

Their time together was extensive and long-lasting; it’s hard to say how deep that affection lingered.

But before the engagement was broken, he did regard Claire Grant as someone to spend his life with, to care for as his future wife.

This never changed at the age of 25.

Later, when he returned from studying abroad, Claire Grant proposed breaking off the engagement.

He remembered, he initially thought it was because their two-to-three-year-long distance relationship had made her uncomfortable, that she was throwing a tantrum.

Thus, he went to find Claire Grant for that reason but didn’t see her in person.

The Grant Family inexplicably informed him that she had already gone abroad.

Subsequent letters to contact her got only a response saying: "Let’s part on good terms; if we meet again, I hope we’re still friends."

At that time, he couldn’t quite understand and felt a bit melancholic, yet no matter the sadness or the desire to pull her back to confront the truth,

there seemed to be no need for it.

Since it was made clear, that was enough.

He respected her choice.

Even after all these years, he could still glimpse into his thoughts back then.

Joy Prescott had once remarked that perhaps he didn’t love deeply enough, or he was too composed, maintaining the "part on good terms" gentleman’s narrative, swallowing all the pain and suffering.

He didn’t refute or argue at that time.

Love and marriage were both arranged tasks for him by his family, ones he could accept and bear the responsibility for.

But ultimately, there was a part of him that was unhappy and repelled by such arrangements.

Comparatively, this relationship and future marriage, bound by the family from the start, was not as significant in his heart as founding Aethel Law Firm.

However, over a decade or two, who could say he hadn’t put his heart into it?

Over five years, neither long nor short.

Yet time could change the direction of many things.

As for her, now Claire Grant to him, was simply the past, a friend.

Still, a rather distant friend.

Today, he was visiting her simply considering this old connection, and out of respect for Mr. Grant and his big brother.

Thus, her "I’m sorry"—to put it coldly, was irrelevant, dispensable.

The silence in the room seemed to last for quite a while.

After a moment, his low and clear voice broke through, "What do you mean by bringing this up with me now?"

Claire Grant was taken aback, perhaps shocked by his understated tone and demeanor.

Or maybe his indifferent attitude had pierced her memories.

Claire Grant gently inhaled, steadied her somewhat turbulent breathing before speaking, "I... didn’t mean anything else. I just thought... there were some things unclear back then, and it’s always better to clarify."

As she spoke, she suddenly gave a desolate smile, "Honestly, without hiding from you or fearing your ridicule, during the period I was receiving treatment abroad,

I was consistently regretting my decision, unsure if the choice was right at all.

Maybe it was narrow-minded; even though I was ill for so many years, you’ve always been good to me, never detested me.

So, more than once, I wanted to explain the truth to you, but I feared you would hate me, resent me because of it, constantly wavering and struggling.

When deciding to return, I was confident my health was relatively stable, only to fall ill suddenly after just two months, catching me off guard.

Don’t think I’m nagging; I just feel a bit uneasy inside... cough cough cough..." 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

Having said so much, her breath and heart rate were disarrayed.

The intake of air was far less than the exhalation; when her lungs compressed, an uncontrollable severe cough erupted.

The originally paper-white face now showed a slight flush due to blood flow.

Upon seeing this, Sebastian Prescott reached out to press the button to call the doctor.

"No...no..."

Claire Grant hurriedly stopped him, shaking her head.

While gently patting her chest to regulate her breathing, she said, "It’s alright. I just spoke too hurriedly. It will ease up..."

After taking a couple of deep breaths, the heart rate on the monitor indeed showed a slow decline.

Sebastian Prescott frowned, retracting his hand.

Claire Grant, after a pause, forced a smile, "I’m sorry."

"There’s no need to bring up past matters again. You should rest."

With a lighthearted tone, Sebastian Prescott spoke, then turned, preparing to leave.

Claire Grant’s pupils shrank slightly, and she called out to him, pointing to the pink and white porcelain cup with the rabbit design and her name on the other side of the table.

"Sebastian, before you go, can you pour me a cup of warm water? My throat is a bit dry and uncomfortable, and I’ll want to cough frequently.

My mom and sister have left, and the nanny went back to prepare dinner... cough cough..."

Saying this, she coughed again vigorously, the corners of her once-clear and exquisite eyes turning red.

Sebastian’s gaze settled on the pink and white porcelain cup, his eyes momentarily freezing before relaxing.

This cup was a couple’s item.

It was something they made together a few days before their engagement party.

Her cup was pink and white, adorned with the image of a rabbit; his was blue and white, featuring a lazy cat.

It had been many years.

He stepped over, nonchalantly picked up the cup, drew a cup of warm water from the dispenser, and returned to the bedside, handing the cup to her.

Claire Grant smiled faintly in thanks, reaching out to take it, but lacked the strength.

So she had to lean her head slowly forward, slowly parting her lips, "Thank you for your trouble."

When Sienna Monroe walked in, this was the scene she saw: Sebastian Prescott feeding water to Claire Grant.

There was a certain distance between them, under a setting not exactly ambiguous, yet carrying an undeniable sense of familiarity.

A special kind of familiarity belonging exclusively to the two of them.