?Chapter 864:


    Rachel watched him closely, her gaze sharpening with concern. She had noticed subtle changestely—his posture, the slow pace at which he ate. It was as if something was quietly shifting, bit by bit, in ways she couldn’t quite understand.


    “An, are you feeling unwell?” Her voice was soft but filled with worry as she studied his strained movements.


    An shook his head, about to speak, but then his fork slipped again.


    Alban quickly moved to pick it up, but Rachel’s focus was entirely on An now. Her eyes widened as she saw his hand tremble violently, the fork slipping from his grip again, and she felt a knot form in her stomach.


    “An!” Her voice was urgent, her gaze locked onto him. “Tell me honestly, are you hiding something from me?”


    An’s breath hitched, his face shadowed with conflict. He couldn’t bring himself to say the cruel name of the disease, couldn’t bear to speak it out loud to her. Instead, he stood up abruptly, walking silently to the window, his back turned to her as if trying to escape her gaze.


    Rachel’s chest tightened, and she turned to Alban, her eyes pleading. “Alban, please tell me.”


    Alban hesitated, the weight of his words hanging in the air.


    Rachel’s frustration boiled over. mming her fork onto the table, she stood up sharply. “I want the truth. Stop hiding things from me. I hate being deceived.”


    Alban remained silent for a long moment, his eyes darting between them before he finally reached into his bag. With a quiet sigh, he handed her a thick stack of documents.


    Rachel stared at the pile of documents, a cold wave of panic washing over her. “What is all this?”


    Alban lowered his gaze, his voice heavy with sorrow. “Mr. Vance is ill, and it’s far more serious than we anticipated. These are the documents detailing his condition.”


    Having witnessed the toll of illness on both Jeffrey and herself, Rachel’s heart twisted with dread at the thought of anyone else she cared for falling ill. It seemed fate had a cruel way of tormenting her, as the people closest to her were always the ones to suffer.


    “How serious is it?” Her voice was thick with worry as she spoke, each word dragging her deeper into dread.


    Alban remained silent, his eyes cast downward.


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    Rachel’s patience snapped, and her voice grew more insistent. “Tell me—please, just tell me the truth!”


    “His condition is gic, inherited within his family. It’s known as ALS—amyotrophicteral sclerosis.”


    Alban’s voice faltered slightly as he exined. “It’s a progressive disease that attacks nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord, leading to muscle weakness and eventually…”


    Rachel’s heart sank as she tried to process the gravity of his words.


    She felt her chest tighten as images of An shed through her mind: him unable to move, his once strong body betraying him as he sat in a wheelchair, his head…


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