She's Too Busy Winning to Watch Him Cry novel Chapter 352

The night was heavy and thick, the quiet room filled only by the rhythmic beeping of the medical monitors. Sitting on the small cot nearby, Rowan finally allowed his tightly strung nerves to unravel, sinking into a deep sleep.

In his dream, the surroundings were barren and desolate. A biting wind whipped against his face, and a cold, solemn headstone loomed before him. The engraved words were sharply legible and blindingly painful—"Here lies my beloved wife, Lyra."

Rowan jolted awake, his chest heaving violently.

He rushed to the side of the bed, reaching out to feel for Lyra's breath. Only when he felt the steady, warm exhale of air did his tense muscles slowly relax.

Yet, a lingering tremor of dread echoed in his chest.

The next day, a mountain of contracts and financial reports was spread across the small sofa. Rowan's gaze was fixed on the documents, the sharp lines of his profile devoid of any warmth.

"If you're so busy, you really don't have to be here," Lyra said coldly.

"I need to give you a sponge bath today," Rowan replied without looking up. "I have to be here."

Lyra's eyes widened in sheer disbelief. "You're going to bathe me?"

"Yes."

"We have a nurse for that," Lyra argued.

"Certain intimate areas need thorough cleaning. Are you truly comfortable letting a stranger touch you?"

"Ah!" Lyra let out a feral, desperate scream. "Are you trying to drive me insane, Rowan? Will it make you happy when I completely lose my mind?"

His relentless, day-after-day torment felt like a dull blade slowly sawing away at her spirit, acting as a creeping, invisible torture. Lyra felt like she was standing on the precipice of madness.

The man's gaze darkened with a predatory intensity. "Why so shy? There isn't an inch of your body I haven't seen."

"I want my mother," Lyra demanded.

"Call her. Right now."

The staff looked uncomfortable. Glancing nervously at the imposing man beside the bed, the doctor on duty hesitated. "Mr. Jameson, this..."

Rowan slowly raised his thumb to wipe the streak of blood from the corner of his mouth. His eyes were dark and brooding as he finally relented. "Just endure it for two more days. Once you can sit up on your own, I'll let Delilah visit."

His words offered zero comfort. Lyra's eyes were utterly hollow. "You make me wish I was dead, Rowan."

"I really wish I was dead. I shouldn't even be alive."

"Don't touch me! You disgust me."

"If you lay another hand on me, I'll throw myself out of this window."

The doctor quickly stepped forward to intervene. "Mr. Jameson, the patient cannot afford these massive emotional spikes. It will severely impact her recovery."

Remembering the terrifying dream, Rowan's spine stiffened. With a rigid expression, he gave a slow, curt nod.