Whispers Turn to Whimpers: Could He Ever Change?

At the Johnson Mansion, Caroline's simmering unease finally bubbled over into certainty.

Clutching a hairpin she'd just unearthed from beneath Francis' pillow, her heart sank. It wasn't hers. Whose could it be then? First, it was photos of another girl, and now, this hairpin...

"Francis!" Caroline's eyes reddened, her voice trembling with emotion she could no longer contain. "Whose is this?"

Francis avoided her gaze, silent.

Though unable to articulate his thoughts fully, his silence spoke volumes—a clear reluctance to communicate.

Caroline laughed bitterly, her emotions teetering on the edge. "Oh, that's right. I forgot you can't talk properly yet. Fine, let's make this simple. Just nod or shake your head, can you do that?"

She sharply pivoted the conversation, "Tell me, are you seeing someone else? Are you?" Belongs © to NôvelDrama.Org.

Francis remained as he was, gaze lowered, offering no response.

In that moment, Caroline's frustration boiled over. She reached out, forcing his face to meet hers. "Answer me! Nod or shake your head. Is it that difficult?"

Francis' expression was a mix of emotions Caroline couldn't decipher.

She was almost certain now; he loved someone else. But when? He'd been in a coma for years, so it must have been before that. The realization chilled her to the bone.

"Francis!" she seethed, her anger palpable. "Is this how you treat me? Did you ever consider my feelings when you were with her?"

Francis' silence was his only reply, his breathing growing heavier with each passing moment.

"Who is she? Who is it?" Caroline's voice broke as she clutched at his shirt. "Answer me! Stop pretending! You can send Sawyer to find people but can't say her name?"

Sylvia, having heard enough from outside, intervened, pulling Caroline away. "Caroline, please, calm down. Francis is still unwell."

"Grandma..." Caroline's tears flowed freely as she pointed at Francis, "Won't you ask him what he's done to me?"

"Alright, alright, I will," Sylvia sighed, her patience wearing thin. Turning to Francis, she suggested, "Francis, if you can't explain, should we ask Sawyer to clear this up?"

At last, Francis showed a hint of response. From his wheelchair, he slowly but decisively shook his head, uttering a faint, "No..."

Caroline was beyond consolation. "Francis, you jerk!"

She stormed to the window, "You won't talk, huh? Keeping her hairpin, looking at it, touching it all day, right? Fine! I'll make sure you can't!"

With that, she hurled the hairpin out the window.

"No!"

The clarity and strength of Francis' voice were astonishing as he attempted to rise from his wheelchair and reach the window—an impossible feat given his condition.

Consequently, he crashed heavily onto the floor.

"Francis!" Sylvia paled, rushing to his aid. "Francis, are you alright?"

Then, turning to Caroline with a stern look, "Can't we talk this out? You know Francis is still recovering!"