?Chapter 1355:


    She couldn’t take her own life. But if someone else did… it wouldn’t be her fault.


    She punished herself through every victory, every breath. She forbade happiness, convinced that living well was a betrayal of Joelle’s sacrifice.


    Years passed. She thought she had made peace with it.


    But after the recent turmoil with Davina, Christina finally understood—she had never healed. She had only pretended to. The guilt, the grief, the self-loathing… had never left. They had simply waited, festering quietly, ready to swallow her whole.


    Now, in her sleep, those emotions broke free.


    Christina cried until she could no longer breathe. Then, suddenly, a sharp pain pierced her chest. Her breathing turned ragged, each inhale cutting through her lungs.


    Her eyes flew open as she jolted upright.


    A metallic taste filled her mouth, and she gasped—before coughing violently. A streak of crimson stained her trembling fingers. Then everything went dim. Her body went limp, copsing back against the bed as her vision blurred to ck.


    Just before the darkness imed herpletely, she heard it—the faint sound of the phone ringing, followed by the crash of a door flung open and the footsteps of someone bursting into the room.


    The next morning, a soft ray of sunlight slipped through the hospital window, brushing across Christina’s pale face. Her eyshes fluttered, and slowly, she opened her eyes.


    “She’s awake! Bonnie’s awake!” Florrie’s trembling voice broke the silence, tears spilling down her cheeks.


    In an instant, the room erupted as everyone rushed to gather around Christina’s bed.


    “Bonnie, how are you feeling?”


    “Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you need anything?”


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    “Does anything hurt?”


    Their anxious voices ovepped, filling the ward with noise and warmth.


    Christina looked around at the familiar, worried faces, and a soft smile curved her lips. “I’m fine,” she said gently.


    “You made me worried sick.” Florrie clutched Christina’s hand, her eyes red and swollen. “You were coughing up bloodst night! If something had happened to you… how could I live with myself?”


    Hurley stood at the foot of the bed, his expression drawn tight. The memory of the night before still haunted him. He had only just arrived when he heard heart-wrenching sobsing from inside the room.


    Then came silence, followed by a faint, horrifying cough.


    When they broke down the door, the sight nearly stopped his heart. Christina was lying motionless on the bed, blood staining the sheets, her lips as white as paper.


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