Christine's kiss, through her mask, fell gently on Ethan's oxygen mask.
He lay in deep sleep, breathing steadily, a layer of white mist forming inside his mask.
As she looked up, she caught a glimpse of a tall figure in a black suit turning away outside the room.
"Adrian came this morning to discuss treatment options with the doctor. He just left,"
Rebecca entered the room, looking exhausted. "Is that why you went to his office last night? I know you're worried he might... let Ethan go."
Christine could only nod silently, unwilling to recall what happened last night.
In truth, even without Rebecca telling her about the discussion's outcome, Christine knew the desperation of their situation. Whether they waited for a matching donor or opted for aggressive chemotherapy, just keeping Ethan alive would cost an astronomical sum.
This was one of the world's top private hospitals - one night's stay with equipment costs more than ten thousand dollars. Adding up the various treatments and maintenance medications, even spending millions might not be enough to save Ethan's life.
In the face of this cruel twist of fate, the power of love meant nothing. The only reason Ethan was still lying here alive was... money, Adrian's will.
She could only pray that he cared about his brother.
They had already asked so much of him.
The current treatment could only maintain Ethan's vital signs, with no real improvement. Most of the time, he remained asleep.
During the forty-five minute visit, Christine held his hand, talking about the city's recent news, the weather, and the trips they had planned together.
But she carefully avoided mentioning her own life, because she couldn't bring herself to tell him... how difficult things had become.
On her way home, her mother Patricia sent a message, asking to talk again. Christine texted back a brief "sorry" before tossing her phone aside.
She didn't know how to face her parents anymore. She couldn't even manage regular work now. Though the school had kept her position and approved her extended leave, she still couldn't stay by Ethan's side all the time. At home, she shut herself in the study, trying to read but unable to focus on a single line.
Finally, feeling numb and lost, she wandered into the garden on the first floor.
Since Ethan's illness, no one had tended to the flowers they'd planted in early summer. The dahlias were withering from lack of water, many already dead.
Christine loved plants, especially flowers.
When they were dating, Ethan had enthusiastically joined her in gardening, even keeping detailed growth journals with her.
He'd bought a new camera just to photograph interesting plants they encountered. Never acting like the rich boy he was, he would happily cycle with Christine during their travels, stopping whenever they found fascinating plants to document.
Ethan had talked about holding a flower-themed photography exhibition with Christine once they had enough photos.
"A chemist and mathematician's art show - how romantic would that be?" he'd said.
Christine sat motionless on the garden bench. The summer evening had cooled, and gentle breezes played with her hair, but couldn't sweep away her troubled thoughts. Without Ethan beside her, everything felt empty.
Adrian's call came at that moment.
When Christine answered, she heard noisy chatter and laughter in the background.
In contrast, his voice was deep and magnetic, almost hypnotic as it reached her ears.
"The box. Know how?" he asked.
Christine was surprised she understood immediately.
Of course she didn't know how to use the things in that box - her intimacy with Ethan had always been gentle, never involving such items.
"...Yes, I do."
She tried to sound composed, swallowing hard before answering.
Then, as if anticipating his next words, she quickly added, "I'll... I'll go upstairs to my room first."
Adrian stayed on the line as Christine clutched her phone, practically running upstairs until she locked her bedroom door, finally catching her breath.
"I'm in my room now," she whispered into the phone.
"Number two. Put it in."
...Put it in? Now?
It was dinner time, and Christine instinctively wanted to refuse, but remembering Adrian's condition of "must obey," she had no choice.
She took a deep breath, opened the large box on her vanity, and found the dildo with number two marked at the bottom. It was about thumb-sized, nowhere near as imposing as Adrian's, a size she could handle.
She was dry, making it difficult to insert even something so small. Christine had no choice but to spread her legs on the bed, rubbing the cold dildo against herself for a minute until she felt some wetness. She managed to push it in, the metal surface feeling strange against her flesh.
Adrian remained silent until she softly breathed into the phone, "It's in."
Her fingers were wet, and as she reached for tissues from the nightstand, Adrian seemed to say "Come..." but she couldn't hear clearly.
"Come where?" Christine asked, feeling a sense of unease.
His voice came through the speaker, striking her eardrums.
"Put on the thong."
"Come to the office."