His "True Love" Was Fake... So Was My Corpse, Sucker! - Chapter 19: Chapter 19
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Mother Sterling sobbed: "Honey, I'm begging you to come talk some sense into Harrison. He just got out of the hospital and went drinking again—he's coughing up blood but won't stop. Nobody can get through to him. If I had any other option, I wouldn't bother you. I really don't know what else to do."
Whitney thought about Mother Sterling's heart condition and couldn't just stand by: "Don't worry, I'll go find him right now."
"But I need to say this upfront—I can never remarry him in this lifetime. Please convince him to let go and stop harassing me."
"We should all just live quietly and leave each other alone."
"I'll talk to him. Don't worry." Mother Sterling sounded relieved: "I'll send you the location right now."
Whitney rushed to the Golden Bar's private room and saw a bunch of people surrounding Harrison, trying to convince him to stop.
The man's black shirt was unbuttoned, his face flushed red from drinking, his right hand wrapped in thick bandages.
Seeing her, everyone stood up to greet her:
"Whitney, you're finally here! Talk some sense into Harrison—he can't drink anymore. He just had stomach tumor surgery and alcohol could kill him!"
"Whitney, Harrison always listened to you most. Say something to him—don't let him joke around with his body. Mrs. Sterling has a heart condition and can't handle this stress."
Whitney stopped a meter away from the man, her voice flat: "Harrison Sterling, stop drinking. Go home."
The man looked up with drunk eyes, his expression wildly joyful as he rushed forward to touch her face, then stopped mid-air, frustrated: "I'm dreaming again—dreaming Whit came to take me home."
"She's mad at me and won't talk to me. She'd never come get me."
"It's not a dream, Harrison. Whitney really came for you." Harrison's buddy patted his shoulder: "Stop messing around—go with her."
"Whit came for me?"
Harrison sounded joyful yet disbelieving.
He stumbled over to Whitney, studying her face carefully for a long time, then held out a red wooden box with both hands, his voice cautious: "Whit, I rewrote all 238 love letters you burned—every word exactly the same as before. Will you look at them?"
Whitney stood there without moving.
His expression dimmed for two seconds, then suddenly he unbuttoned his shirt: "Whit, I carved these words on my chest. I'll never forget you again. Give me a chance to make things right, okay?"
She looked up to see three red letters tattooed on the man's chest: "MY DEAR WHIT."
The blood-red letters embedded in blooming lilies were especially striking, burning Whitney's eyes.
In a trance, she seemed to hear countless voices:
[My dear Whit, without seeing you is so lonely and cold. Get me a sweet peach oolong bubble tea, make it snappy!]
[My dear Whit, I love watching you blush when I kiss you and chase me with a book—so cute I could eat you up!]
[My dear Whit, Merry Christmas! Remember to wear matching watches to school today—if you forget again, I'll strangle you!]
[My dear Whit, don't worry about your bad grades affecting your job prospects. I'll work hard to support you forever, okay? Don't cry—when you cry, my heart breaks.]
All the voices merged into the words carved on his heart.
She looked away, saying word by word: "Harrison Sterling, it's all too late. My love for you is long gone and can't come back!"
Whitney thought about Mother Sterling's heart condition and couldn't just stand by: "Don't worry, I'll go find him right now."
"But I need to say this upfront—I can never remarry him in this lifetime. Please convince him to let go and stop harassing me."
"We should all just live quietly and leave each other alone."
"I'll talk to him. Don't worry." Mother Sterling sounded relieved: "I'll send you the location right now."
Whitney rushed to the Golden Bar's private room and saw a bunch of people surrounding Harrison, trying to convince him to stop.
The man's black shirt was unbuttoned, his face flushed red from drinking, his right hand wrapped in thick bandages.
Seeing her, everyone stood up to greet her:
"Whitney, you're finally here! Talk some sense into Harrison—he can't drink anymore. He just had stomach tumor surgery and alcohol could kill him!"
"Whitney, Harrison always listened to you most. Say something to him—don't let him joke around with his body. Mrs. Sterling has a heart condition and can't handle this stress."
Whitney stopped a meter away from the man, her voice flat: "Harrison Sterling, stop drinking. Go home."
The man looked up with drunk eyes, his expression wildly joyful as he rushed forward to touch her face, then stopped mid-air, frustrated: "I'm dreaming again—dreaming Whit came to take me home."
"She's mad at me and won't talk to me. She'd never come get me."
"It's not a dream, Harrison. Whitney really came for you." Harrison's buddy patted his shoulder: "Stop messing around—go with her."
"Whit came for me?"
Harrison sounded joyful yet disbelieving.
He stumbled over to Whitney, studying her face carefully for a long time, then held out a red wooden box with both hands, his voice cautious: "Whit, I rewrote all 238 love letters you burned—every word exactly the same as before. Will you look at them?"
Whitney stood there without moving.
His expression dimmed for two seconds, then suddenly he unbuttoned his shirt: "Whit, I carved these words on my chest. I'll never forget you again. Give me a chance to make things right, okay?"
She looked up to see three red letters tattooed on the man's chest: "MY DEAR WHIT."
The blood-red letters embedded in blooming lilies were especially striking, burning Whitney's eyes.
In a trance, she seemed to hear countless voices:
[My dear Whit, without seeing you is so lonely and cold. Get me a sweet peach oolong bubble tea, make it snappy!]
[My dear Whit, I love watching you blush when I kiss you and chase me with a book—so cute I could eat you up!]
[My dear Whit, Merry Christmas! Remember to wear matching watches to school today—if you forget again, I'll strangle you!]
[My dear Whit, don't worry about your bad grades affecting your job prospects. I'll work hard to support you forever, okay? Don't cry—when you cry, my heart breaks.]
All the voices merged into the words carved on his heart.
She looked away, saying word by word: "Harrison Sterling, it's all too late. My love for you is long gone and can't come back!"
End of His "True Love" Was Fake... So Was My Corpse, Sucker! Chapter 19. Continue reading Chapter 20 or return to His "True Love" Was Fake... So Was My Corpse, Sucker! book page.