Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Brielle felt as if her legs had turned to jelly, and her walking cane clattered to the floor with a sound that seemed to echo through the sterile silence of the hospital corridor. She could hardly make out what Miranda was babbling about; to her, everyone’s lips seemed to be moving in slow motion, like fish gasping for air on dry land.

Her eyes locked onto Julian as he was wheeled out, his gaunt face was ashen and lifeless. It was as if the scene jolted her back to reality, and she suddenly found the strength to walk over to the bedside. “Grandpa, can you hear me? It’s me, Bri.”

Julian clung to life by a thread, his eyes murky, reflecting the dim light like polluted water. At the sound of her voice, a faint spark of recognition flickered in him. “Bri…”

Tears streamed down Brielle’s cheeks as she took his hand, “Yes, it’s me.”

Julian struggled to sit up, but he was too exhausted. His lips parted with great effort, and after what seemed like an eternity, he whispered, “Money.”

But Brielle couldn’t understand. Tears blurred her vision as she leaned closer to catch his words.

“Money in the chest, for Bri.”

Hearing the word ‘dowry,‘ Brielle squeezed his hand tighter, “I understand, the money.”

A look of relief passed over Julian’s face, as if this was the last unfinished business he had. His eyelids were heavy, fighting to stay open, but he managed a tender smile.

“Live well, Bri.”

This was the second time Julian had told her to live well. The first time was years ago when Julian had been rushed to the hospital after a fall. He had said it with such gravity then.

Live well.

In the blink of an eye, so many years had passed. Julian had survived that trip to the emergency room, and how Brielle wished this time would be the same. But after those words. Julian gave her a kind smile, and then his eyes slowly closed.

“Grandpa!” Brielle cried out, her eyes wide with shock, gripping his wrist in desperation. Julian’s warmth gradually faded, his eyes shut, his hand growing cold in hers.

Brielle blinked rapidly, unable to accept what was happening. She held Julian’s hand to her lips. breathing on it in a futile attempt to warm it, but the hand just got colder, more rigid, slipping. slowly from her grasp.

Brielle tried again, rubbing her thumbs over the weathered back of his hand. The little warmth she could muster was like breath on a block of ice, utterly useless.

Julian was gone. Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

Brielle collapsed to the floor, numb to the pain in her legs. She must be dreaming, a nightmare. she longed to awaken from.

The doctors came to her aid, draping a white sheet over Julian’s face.

Brielle stared, lips clenched, unable to cry.

“Ms. Brielle, he’s at peace now. Please, take a moment to grieve, but we’ll need to make arrangements for the funeral.”

The doctor tried to comfort her and then turned to Miranda, who had collapsed on the floor, not out of grief, but out of fear.

It was over. Julian was actually dead. What would become of the Haywood family now?

To the doctor, Miranda’s panic seemed like sorrow, and he sighed, “If only we’d gotten him here half an hour earlier, perhaps…”

Miranda’s eyes were wide with panic, too scared to break the news to Robert. Her elt

weak, her breathing difficult. She saw Brielle being helped by the doctor, intending to enter the room, and forced herself to stand.

away

“Brielle, Julian passed because of the stress from the Haywood family affairs. Do you want to keep antagonizing them? Do you want him to be restless even in death? How can you

be so cruel…”