"Rosalie."

Byron could not help calling her softly, hoping that the woman would open her eyes after hearing his voice.

However, a long time after, Rosalie did not respond at all.

Byron looked at the person on the hospital bed and leaned over to the woman.

If she had a little consciousness and saw him approaching, she would probably wake up desperately and hide away from him.

This time, the little woman laid motionless, her breath did not change in pace even though he had come so close.

Only then did Byron realize that he had not seen this woman so closely for a long time.

Rosalie's facial features were still exquisite and impeccable, but the sickly complexion was unmistakable.

Looking at her pale face, a bit of hesitation flashed through Byron's eyes.

After a while, the man slowly stretched out his hand, and carefully touched her face with his fingertips.

"Are you blaming me? The doctors have been treating you for so long, why don't you wake up? Do you want to see me regret?"