Chapter 1589: Chapter 1589: Became a Vegetative Person
Jasmine Yale briefly explained the situation to Sylvan Cheney.
Sylvan Cheney truly had no impression of it.
“Peyenne’s hometown is far from Landon. If I have time, I’ll visit her.” Jasmine sighed regretfully. “But Joe Heath finally told me the truth. Peyenne was buried in an avalanche. Although she survived, she’s lost sensation in her legs and will spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair. Lincoln Lamar hired excellent doctors for her, but they could only save her life.”
As Jasmine spoke, her eyes glistened with a thin veil of tears, her voice urgent: “Joe Heath never told me these details. He only said she was still receiving treatment in Swatzerland and told me not to worry. Whenever I called, it was always Lincoln Lamar who answered.”
Sylvan Cheney drove in silence, listening to Jasmine recount everything.
He couldn’t remember Peyenne Jones, but he did remember Lincoln Lamar—the actor who vanished from the entertainment industry at the peak of his career, disappearing as if off the face of the earth.
“I always thought Peyenne was fine, but now Joe Heath finally tells me the truth. During that time, Peyenne became a vegetative patient. Only recently has she shown slight signs of recovery, but her mental capacity is like that of a six- or seven-year-old child.” Jasmine choked up. “She only remembers things from when she was six or seven…”
“She won’t return to Landon, and she won’t remember me…”
Jasmine’s face carried a sorrowful expression. The teary mist in her eyes blurred her vision, making her seem lost and detached.
“If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know,” Sylvan Cheney said.
“This visit is probably just a temporary stop. Lincoln Lamar and her parents will take her abroad for continued treatment. If only I had stopped her from going to Swatzerland for that trip…”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“If I had stopped her, none of this would’ve happened…”
“Jasmine Yale, nobody wants these unforeseen tragedies to happen. You don’t need to dwell in self-blame,” Sylvan said in a low voice.
“But I still feel so sad.”
“I understand.” Sylvan nodded. “Take care of yourself first.”
Jasmine’s eyes were already red-rimmed. When she received Joe Heath’s call earlier in the morning, she had secretly cried.
Now, as she recounted it to Sylvan Cheney, the invisible hand gripping her chest tightened again, causing her sharp pangs of pain.
Sylvan freed one hand to gently pat her head, then opened the car’s storage box and pulled out a fluffy stuffed rabbit, tossing it to her.
“Saw this on the road yesterday and picked it up. Forgot to give it to you,” Sylvan said.
Jasmine took the rabbit, silently pinching its floppy ears.
Her throat tightened, making her unable to utter a single word for the moment.
The rabbit’s fur was soft and warm; its expression, soothing and comforting.
She lowered her head, hugging the rabbit tightly.
Maybe it was the hormonal effects of her period, but her sadness magnified inexplicably.
The car quickly pulled up at the hospital. Aunt May was already waiting for them at the department.
Today, Jasmine wore a light peach-pink sweater, her hair flowing gently over her shoulders.
Sylvan held her waist as they headed toward the lab for blood tests, ultrasounds, and other routine examinations.
Once they had the results, Sylvan brought her to Aunt May’s office.
Aunt May adjusted her glasses and examined the reports carefully.
After a few minutes of review, she smiled. “I told you the medication I prescribed would work wonders. That comes from my many years of practicing medicine.”
Jasmine let out a breath of relief. “Aunt May, are those abnormal results from last time still an issue?”
“No, no issues anymore.”
“Do I still need to take the medication?” Jasmine asked nervously.