Alpha's Regret: False Mate True Luna novel Chapter 85

Chapter 85

Ferris froze, as if slapped by a invisible hand across the face.

He didn’t say anything, reaching toward my forehead. My head was heavy, but my reflexes weren’t slow–1 dodged.

He paused, withdrew his hand, and stood up: “The doctor is outside. I’ll have him come check on you.”

Without waiting for my response, he got up and left the room.

Soon after, the room door was gently pushed open, and a female doctor in a white uniform walked in.

“Ms Aurora, hello, I’m Melinda, the attending physician in charge of your treatment.”

She opened the electronic medical chart in her hands, her tone gentle but professional.

“Your fever reached nearly 40.5 degrees Celsius, you were severely dehydrated, and experienced brief loss of consciousness. Fortunately, you were brought in time. We’ve stabilized your temperature through physical cooling and IV fluids, but your body is still in an extremely weakened state.”

I nodded, my throat still somewhat hoarse: “Thank you, doctor.”

She put down her instrument, looked at me seriously, and continued: “However, our examination revealed signs of long–term fatigue, malnutrition, and psychological depression. Your immune system has clearly declined. If this high fever had lasted a few more hours, it might not have been just a simple fainting spell.”

Your body is sending you signals, Ms Aurora–you need proper rest, and you need someone who truly cares for and takes care of you.”

She paused, glanced at Ferris standing nearby with a grim expression, then looked back at me with a gentle tone: “I recommend avoiding work or stress–related natters for the next few days. Rest is most important.”

I nodded lightly, feeling a pang of sourness in my heart, but also relieved.

The doctor gave me an encouraging smile: “A nurse will come change your IV again. If you feel any discomfort, press the call button immediately. We’ll be right

>utside.”

Thank you.”

After the doctor left, Ferris remained standing by the window.

hough his back was to me, I could sense his struggle to suppress his emotions from his tense shoulder line and slightly trembling fingers.

le slowly turned around, looking at me on the hospital bed with a strangely complex gaze–shock, regret, restraint, and a hint of anger.

Malnutrition?” His voice was low and hoarse. “Long–term fatigue? Psychological depression?”

le repeated the doctor’s words one by one, his voice growing colder with each word.

How have you been living?!” He finally roared, the long–suppressed anger exploding in that instant.

How did you want me to live?”

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