Falling For My Ex's Uncle - Chapter 501: Chapter 501

The emergency room doors remained tightly shut, and the harsh white lighting in the corridor was almost blinding.
The moment Jamilah was rushed to the hospital after collapsing at home due to a high fever, it felt as if the air had frozen in place. Every second of waiting was sheer agony.
A wave of cold washed over me, and my body trembled slightly.
Marvin kept glancing at the emergency room doors, his eyes filled with anxiety and unease.
"Mrs. Adams, you have to be okay... You must be okay..." I prayed silently, my eyes brimming with tears, yet I stubbornly refused to let them fall.
One hour passed, stretching on like an eternity.
Finally, the doors to the emergency room slowly opened. The doctor stepped out, removed his mask, and looked at us with an exhausted, helpless expression.
There was a trace of reluctance in his eyes as he said, "You should go in to see her one last time. Her organs have completely failed, and there is nothing more we can do."
My body froze in an instant, my mind going blank as I murmured, "That's impossible..."
I kept denying it in my heart until Marvin gently pulled my arm, prompting me to mechanically follow him into the emergency room.
Jamilah lay on the hospital bed, her face as pale as paper, her lips drained of all color.
Seeing her so weak and frail, my heart clenched as if pierced by countless needles, making it difficult to breathe.
I slowly walked to her bedside and took her hand. Once warm and strong, it was now cold and fragile.
Jamilah slowly opened her eyes. Upon seeing me, she mustered all her strength to give me a faint smile.
She gently squeezed my hand and softly comforted me, "Laurel, don't cry. You didn't cry when Angela left, did you? So don't cry for me either."
Her voice was weak, yet every word was like a dagger, stabbing deeper into my heart.
I looked at her, and this time, I could no longer hold back my tears—they spilled over uncontrollably.
"Mrs. Adams, you'll be okay..." I choked out, my throat tight, making every word unbearably difficult to say.
Jamilah took a deep breath and gently stroked my head, looking at me with a tender smile.
Her gaze was filled with warmth and reluctance, but my blurred vision prevented me from seeing her expression clearly. Suddenly, I recalled the year Angela left Nifelheim City to go abroad. We had walked into the airport, laughing and chatting, but the moment we turned to part ways, we both broke down in tears.
That was the first time I had experienced separation, and it had brought me unimaginable sorrow.
Over time, I had grown accustomed to people leaving suddenly, thinking I had learned to face loss with composure. But after Angela's departure, I realized that so-called acceptance was nothing more than self-deception.
"Laurel, live well for us," Jamilah said as her grip on my hand loosened. Her eyes slowly closed, her face still carrying that gentle smile.
My heart sank violently as if plummeting into an endless abyss. The overwhelming grief crashed over me like tidal waves, drowning me completely. I broke down in loud sobs, my cries echoing through the emergency room, raw and heart-wrenching.
With Marvin's support, I stumbled out of the room and saw Michael and Yvonne arriving late.
Yvonne frowned in annoyance and complained, "I was in the middle of a facial treatment. Why drag me here? Jamilah was just sick—everyone gets sick. Was it really necessary to make such a fuss?"
As she spoke, she adjusted her hair with impatience in her eyes.
"Mom, Mrs. Adams is gone," Marvin's voice was low and hoarse, filled with immeasurable grief.
"See? I told you it was nothing serious, yet you insisted on bringing me here," Yvonne scoffed, shooting Michael a displeased glance.
Just as Marvin was about to explain, the emergency room doors opened once again, and a body covered with a white sheet was wheeled out.
Michael and Yvonne stood frozen in place, their expressions turning stiff.
Yvonne's mouth fell slightly open, her eyes filled with shock and disbelief.
Michael's face paled, his body trembling as if he had yet to fully process the devastating news.
As the doctor announced Jamilah's time of death, Michael still did not react. Meanwhile, Yvonne's body went limp, and she collapsed onto the ground.
Her eyes were vacant as she muttered, "How... how could this happen..." The arrogance and disdain from earlier had vanished entirely, replaced by sheer terror and grief.
Marvin quickly stepped forward to support Yvonne, exhaustion and helplessness evident on his face as he softly reassured her, "Mom, please don't..."
His voice was thick with suppressed sobs.
Standing off to the side, I watched everything unfold. The intense sorrow in my heart momentarily dulled under the weight of this unexpected turn of events.
I gazed out the window. The sky was gloomy, with not a single ray of sunlight.
Yvonne sat on the floor, tears streaming down her face as she choked out in anger, "She can't be dead! This must be a lie!"
Michael slowly walked toward the covered body, his hand trembling as he reached out to lift the sheet. But just as he was about to do so, he stopped midway. His shoulders shook, and silent tears streamed down his face as he whispered, "Jamilah... I'm so sorry..."
His voice was hoarse, carrying endless guilt.
I slowly lifted my gaze to look at Michael, suddenly noticing that the hair at his temples had turned gray for the first time.
Ever since Angela's passing, he seemed to have aged over a decade overnight. And now, his wife had suddenly left as well—so suddenly that she had refused to see him even in her final moments.
The crushing guilt and remorse weighed so heavily on him that he refused to accept the reality before him.
After a lifetime of rivalry with Jamilah, Yvonne seemed equally incapable of accepting her sudden departure.
By now, more people had gathered in the corridor, casting curious and sympathetic glances toward us.
Nurses hurried past, their footsteps echoing loudly in the otherwise silent hallway.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly walked toward Michael and Yvonne and gently consoled them, "Mr. Michael, Mrs. Yvonne, and Mrs. Jamilah wouldn't want to see us like this. She spent her whole life caring for others—we should send her off with the dignity she deserves."
I tried to keep my voice steady, but tears still spilled uncontrollably down my cheeks.
Michael and Yvonne lifted their heads to look at me, gratitude shining in their tear-filled eyes.
They stood up slowly, taking a moment to compose themselves. Michael lightly squeezed my hand and murmured, "Laurel, thank you."
Together, we followed the gurney, escorting Mrs. Adams to the morgue.
The entire way, no one spoke—only the heavy sound of footsteps and muffled sobs filled the air.
The morgue carried an icy chill that sent shivers down my spine.
After settling Mrs. Adams in place, we stood silently by her side, saying our final goodbyes.