"Of course not, Rose. I don't have cancer."
"Then let me see what kind of medicine this is," she countered. She forcefully pushed his hand away and took out the pill bottles.
The bottle didn't seem to be in its original packaging. It was a repackaged amber-colored container with different labels stuck on it.
Clonazepam, Barbiturate, Fluoxetine.
The names of these medications were unfamiliar to her.
All the bottles were empty, with no pills left inside. It was obvious they had already been consumed.
Since they were repackaged, it meant the prescription was strictly controlled, with only a limited quantity dispensed at a time.
"What kind of medicine is this? What is it for?"
"They're just common medications. Look at me—I'm perfectly fine."
"If you won't tell me, I'll find out myself."
Rosalie stood up to leave, but Theodore grabbed her arm.
"Rose, these are psychiatric medications used to relieve depression, anxiety, and to stabilize emotions."
He had no choice but to tell the truth. Even if he didn't, she would eventually find out. Rather than letting her discover it on her own, he decided it was better to tell her himself.
Rosalie froze. "Have you been taking these for a long time?"
Theodore remained silent. "...Rose, I'm really fine now."
"If you're fine, then why did I just hear you on the phone asking them to prepare more? That means you still need them. Theo, why didn't you tell me?"
Psychiatric medications weren't to be taken lightly. If it weren't for an unbearable condition, if the suffering wasn't too overwhelming, how could he have been taking so much of them?
She couldn't even imagine what state he was in before he started taking the medication, nor how long he had been relying on them.
"Rose, I just thought it wasn't necessary."
"Not necessary?" Rosalie snapped. "Why would you think it wasn't necessary to tell me?"
"I didn't want you to worry."
"Yes, I would have worried. But now that I've found out like this, do you think I wouldn't feel even worse? Theo, Sebastian was right—I bring misfortune. The men who love me all come to a bad end. Sebastian said he loved me, and he died. Yerick also said he loved me, and he died too. Now you say you love me, and look at you—you're barely holding on. I really am a cursed woman."
"What name?" Rosalie asked.
"Chelsea Young."
"Chelsea," Rosalie repeated the name softly. "It feels so warm. You've chosen a beautiful name. Then, our daughter will be Chelsea Young."
"Rose, don't you want to think about it a little more?"
"No, I don't. I love the name you picked. I'm sure our daughter will love it too."
"Rose," he said seriously, "she is my daughter as well. I'll love her as my own."
Rosalie gently caressed Theodore's cheek. "Go to sleep. Chelsea and I will stay with you."
Perhaps because Rosalie was by his side, Theodore soon fell into a deep sleep.
Even after he was asleep, Rosalie didn't leave right away. She remained sitting beside him, her gaze falling on the empty pill bottles at the bedside.
She picked up one of the bottles and clutched it tightly in her hand, her eyes gradually welling up with tears.
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