Chapter 882

Emily Blair smiled gently. “It’s no trouble at all. You’ve helped me so much over the years, I’ve always wanted to find a way to repay you. I’m just grateful you thought of me this time. Whatever you need, just say the word—I’ll do anything I can to help.”
Melisa Vargas’s shoulders relaxed as she smiled. “Hearing you say that puts my mind at ease.”
Yet beneath her calm exterior, Emily couldn’t help feeling a ripple of unease before meeting her former teacher.
He’d always been a stickler for manners, the sort of person who would personally greet guests at the door. But even after she’d stepped into the living room of the villa, there was no sign of him.
After exchanging her shoes for a pair of slippers, Emily took in her surroundings. The decor was understated and simple, with not a single unnecessary ornament in sight.
Following Melisa across the room, Emily couldn’t help but ask, “Where is he?”
Melisa’s smile faded, her voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “Dad was diagnosed with leukemia recently. About a month ago, he found the hospital unbearable—he didn’t want to spend his last days there. The doctors told us the chances of recovery were slim, so he decided to come home and stop treatment. He’s been bedridden ever since, just too weak to get up. That’s why you’ll need to go upstairs to see him, if that’s all right?”
Emily froze, her fingers curling tightly.
“Leukemia?” she whispered, her heart clenching. “How could this happen?”
Melisa managed a small, reassuring smile. “It’s all right. Dad and the rest of the family have come to terms with it. He’s lived over seventy years, enjoyed a good few years of retirement, and says he has no regrets. He’s very much at peace with it. He’s never been one to dwell on things, and he’s not afraid.”
She turned to Emily, her tone soft. “Actually, Dad doesn’t want anyone’s pity or sympathy. If you can, please just treat him the way you always have. Looking at him with sorrow would only make him uncomfortable.”
Emily nodded. “I understand.”
Melisa gave her a grateful smile and gently pushed open the door to Tate Vargas’s bedroom. “Dad, Emily’s here.”
Emily lingered at the doorway, listening to the frail, wavering voice that drifted out: “Come in.”
The sound of it made her eyes sting. She lowered her head, taking a slow, deep breath to steady herself and blink away the heat behind her eyelids.
When she looked up, Melisa caught her gaze, offering an encouraging smile. Her voice was soft. “Go on. He’s been waiting for you.”
Emily nodded. “Okay.”
The door closed quietly behind her as she entered. The lighting in Tate Vargas’s bedroom was dim—a warm golden glow that tried but failed to give life to his pale, gaunt face. He looked so thin that his bones pressed sharply against his clothes, a far cry from the robust man she remembered.
His clouded eyes turned toward her, sending a tremor through Emily’s heart. She forced herself to smile as she greeted him, “It’s been a long time, sir.”
A faint smile touched Tate’s lips as he struggled to speak. “Emily, come, sit with me.”
Emily moved to the chair beside his bed. “Sir, you
She hesitated, then pressed on. “Please, would you consider going back to the hospital? Maybe just to get some medicine?”