Chapter 448 Chose to Walk Away Again
Winston’s fingers trembled uncontrobly.
He shut his eyes, and his face seemed to be shrouded in a faint shadow.
<b>His </b>heart felt like a restless body of water, constantly churning, never calm.
Dalton had made his meaning clear.
If he kept pushing, he’d onlye off as tactless.
Once he’d gradually settled his emotions, Winston raised his hand again. His fingertips were <b>still </b><b>trembling</b><b>. </b>
He began typing:
Winston: “I get it.”
Winston: “To you, my apology doesn’t matter, does it?<b>” </b>
Winston: “You never nned to forgive me. You don’t care how I feel. You just want to move on… and never really talk to me again.”
In the end, Dalton still hadn’t forgiven him.
Even his apology wasn’t worth acknowledging.
Winston had expected this, honestly.
But actually seeing it confirmed still left him hollow.
His phone vibrated.
Dalton’s message popped up instantly.
Dalton: “Don’t sound so defeated.”
Dalton: “Like I said, people should look ahead. We were never going to be friends like before again… were we?”
Never going to be friends like before again.
Those words hit like a st of ice.
Winston felt his chest tighten as if something cold had locked around his heart and frozen it solid.
He gripped his phone, eyes cast low, a growing darkness creeping through his gaze.
After what felt like forever, he finally forced himself to type back.
Winston: “Yeah. Got it.”
Winston: “You’re still recovering. I’ve probably wasted too much of your energy. Get some <b>rest</b>. <b>Maybe </b><b>we’ll </b>talk again sometime.”
As soon as he hit send, Dalton replied with a single waving emoji.
Chapter 448 Chose to Walk Away Again
<b>And </b>just like that, their conversation ended.
Winston turned off his phone. The sense of emptiness inside him only grew heavier.
Then suddenly–heughed.
A short, bitterugh, sharp as ss.
He wasughing at himself.
He felt like one of those pitiful guys in a melodrama, desperately begging someone toe back.
And just like in the dramas, he failed.
Pretending it didn’t sting would be a lie.
He didn’t need another friend, did he? But then why… Why did it still hurt so much, like someone had carved out a piece of him?
Meanwhile-
Dalton set his phone down on the nightstand.
Hey t on the hospital bed, staring nkly at the white ceiling.
Around him, the soft sounds of IV drips and machines buzzed steadily in the background.
He broke into a series of coughs, his body wracked with difort. Every organ seemed to twist and clench.
His head throbbed with dizziness and heat.
He nced toward his phone and, after a moment, reached for it with shaky fingers, lighting up the <b>screen</b>.
Their chat was still open.
Dalton looked at it quietly for a long time. He didn’t type anything.
He had never truly hated Winston.
He didn’t think Winston had wronged him, not really. And he didn’t feel like he’d been seriously hurt.
<i>So </i>what <i>was </i><i>there </i><i>to </i><i>forgive</i><i>? </i>
Back then, because of his illness, he never exined anything. He let Winston believe what <b>he </b>wanted. They slowly drifted apart.
At the time, Dalton had felt that he couldn’t help Winston through his struggles anymore. That he’d only drag him down.
So he chose to walk away.
And now, he had chosen to walk away again.