Rebirth Into My Second Chance novel Chapter 135

With a smile in my eyes, I walked over to him, intending to formally thank him and ask what gift he wanted. Yet, as I approached, I realized he wasn't just angry; his lips were pale, and his complexion bloodless. The moment I reached his side, he collapsed onto me with considerable weight.

“Max…”

Instinctively, I checked him for injuries, finding none. “Max, what’s wrong?”

Given his tall stature and the athletic build from his regular gym routine, he felt especially heavy when he fell.

I managed to drag him back to his apartment, kicking the door shut behind us.

I placed him on the couch, touching his sweat-chilled forehead.

Could he have skipped meals for an autopsy?

“Max, could it be low blood sugar?”

He didn’t respond.

I headed to his kitchen to rummage around and found that his fridge was stocked with nothing but milk.

Continuing my search in the cupboard, I discovered bags upon bags of glucose...

Max really went all out for his surgeries.

Ripping open a packet, I noticed the trash bin overflowing with empty glucose bags.

Was he really downing a glucose pack immediately after work every day? No wonder he seemed so drained, barely even wanting to talk earlier. Only the sound of my scream seemed to give him a burst of adrenaline, only to pass out after realizing I was fine.

I really messed up.

I tried to feed him glucose with a spoon, but he seemed too far gone to swallow a single drop.

“Max, wake up.”

Seeing Max so lifeless scared me. I pinched his cheeks, glanced at the glucose bag, bit my lip, and then took a sip myself. I poured it into Max’s mouth directly from mine.

As the sweetness of the glucose slipped between my lips, he didn’t open his mouth, so I carefully pried open a small gap.

I gestured towards the cupboard full of glucose water, and he remained silent.

Pretending to be annoyed, I said, “Dr. Hilton, if you keep being as silent as a statue, I’m leaving, you know.”

Only when I pretended to leave did he finally speak up, “I’m sorry.”

His reserved demeanor reminded me of a young man in a suit who, back in the day, appeared to be delivering donations to an orphanage.

“I saw your fridge only has milk and spaghetti. How about I make you some spaghetti? I’m pretty hungry myself. I’ll go grab some eggs and tomatoes from my place; I’ll make you my special scrambled egg and tomato spaghetti.”

His eyes seemed to light up for a moment.

“Okay.”

I quickly fetched the eggs and tomatoes. Max hadn’t locked the door, so I walked right in.

He was already wearing an apron, standing in the kitchen, boiling water on the stove.