Originally, she thought she could peacefully spend the remaining days before her death, but it seems fate didn't give her that chance.
Jane woke up again because of the pain, the kind that penetrates to the bone marrow, leaving her head muddled. She really couldn't bear it any longer; several times she wanted to end her life like ancient people by biting her tongue.
Forget it.
She feared pain.
Sigh.
She must endure for Jack.
Ever since she knew her days were numbered, she began writing letters every day, one or two daily, and during this perilous time, whenever she had time, she would pick up the pen to write.
She woke up earlier than the sun, sitting by the window for a long time before the sky had fully brightened, watching the hospital entrance where people were constantly coming and going.
Some entered with furrowed brows and left with deep darkness in their expressions.
