Chapter 205 He Removed My Uterus
Byron had Freya rushed to the hospital, where she was stabilized. Not long after, Freya’s friend, Seraphina Gray, arrived, her eyes swollen from crying.
“I knew she came to see you,” Seraphina said, her voice thick with emotion as she looked at Freya, pale and unconscious on the hospital bed. She wiped away the fresh tears that welled up in her eyes. “Actually, Freya has been back for a while. She wanted to see you as soon as she returned. But when the news of your engagement broke, she couldn’t bring herself to bother you. You know how she is—so kind. But… Byron, she feels like she has nothing left to live for.”
Byron turned toward Seraphina, his expression hardening with concern. “What do you mean, Seraphina?”
Seraphina’s eyes flickered with both anger and sadness as she continued, “The day of your engagement, she couldn’t hold on anymore. She took a whole bottle of sleeping pills. Luckily, she was found in time…”
Byron clenched his fists, his heart sinking at the words.
“She came to see you because she knows you’ve broken off the engagement,” Seraphina added softly, her voice trembling with a mix of pity and regret. “Mr. Crawford, you may not understand just how much Freya loves you.”
Byron remained silent, processing the weight of Seraphina’s words.
A nurse soon entered the room, asking for the patient’s medical history.
“She suffers from severe depression, anxiety, heart disease, and severe anemia,” Seraphina explained, her voice tinged with worry. “She’s been like this for a long time.”
The nurse frowned as she listened, then glanced at Freya with concern. “No wonder she’s so thin and weak,” she murmured. “She needs immediate, systematic treatment. Is she currently receiving care?”
“No…” Seraphina’s voice dropped, and she seemed at a loss.
The nurse sighed, shook her head, and left the room, her footsteps fading into the hallway.
Byron remained in his seat, deep in thought. After a long pause, he asked, “Why didn’t she seek treatment earlier?”
“Freya is afraid of hospitals,” Seraphina replied quietly, her gaze lifting to meet Byron’s. “But I believe if you’re with her, she’ll trust the treatment. Mr. Crawford… please, if you’re with her, she will have hope again.”
Byron stared at Seraphina, his mind racing. His fingers absently touched the cuff of his sleeve, but he quickly paused. He wasn’t wearing the cufflinks Athena had given him. One of them was missing.
For a moment, his thoughts drifted to Athena—how he’d wanted to ask her for another pair of cufflinks. But that thought was quickly shoved aside as the gravity of the situation returned to him.
Seraphina’s voice broke through his contemplation. “Mr. Crawford… Do you even remember how good Freya was in the past? Do you remember what she was like before all of this happened? Are you really so detached that you feel no responsibility for this?”
Byron’s gaze snapped up to her, his expression cold and sharp. “It’s not your place to tell me what to do.”
Seraphina flinched, stepping back slightly, her face a mixture of frustration and helplessness. “I just want Freya to be better,” she said quietly.
Byron didn’t respond. His attention was solely on Freya now.
It wasn’t long before Freya began to stir, her fragile form shifting under the covers. When her eyes fluttered open, Byron was already at her side.
“How are you?” Byron asked softly, his voice gentle despite the storm of emotions inside him. “Do you feel unwell?”
Freya’s eyes instantly filled with tears. She sat up abruptly, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.
Byron froze, his body stiffening at the unexpected contact. His first thought was of Erik, who had mentioned on the phone that Athena had called him a “playboy,” accusing him of sleeping with many women.
“Freya,” Byron said, pulling her gently away from him, his voice urgent. “Lie down and rest. You need to take care of yourself.”
Reluctantly, Freya lay back down, though her eyes never left Byron. Her expression was a mixture of yearning and pain, and her hands clutched the bed sheets as if holding on for dear life.
Byron glanced at his watch, trying to gauge the time, but Freya’s sudden question stopped him.
“Are you leaving?” she asked, her voice trembling, her eyes wide with fear.
Byron’s heart tightened at the sound of her desperation. He opened his mouth to speak, but she quickly turned her head, looking for something—or someone—else.
“Where’s Seraphina?” she asked, her voice panicked. “Ask her to help me get discharged! I can’t stay here! I need to leave!”
“You can’t leave, Freya,” Byron said firmly, his tone hardening. “You need to stay here. You need proper treatment. You can’t keep avoiding it.”
“I can’t!” Freya shook her head violently, her voice rising in distress. “I’m afraid of the hospital! I can’t be here!”
Byron’s patience was running thin, but his voice remained steady. “Why are you afraid of the hospital? You’re sick, Freya. You need treatment. You can’t keep running away from this.”
Freya’s eyes locked onto his, and she spoke in a broken whisper that shattered the air between them. “He tied me to the hospital… and he removed my uterus.”
The words hit Byron like a physical blow. His chest constricted as he struggled to process what she was saying.
“Shouldn’t I be afraid?” Freya’s voice cracked as she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Shouldn’t I be terrified of this place?”
Byron stood still, unable to respond at first. His mind reeled, images of the past, of everything Freya had been through, and now the weight of the truth—the horrific reality she had faced. His heart clenched as he realized how much damage had been done, how much he had failed to protect her.