"That’s more like it," she grumbled, her face turned away, refusing to et his gaze.
Her cheeks were still puffed from crying, eyes rimd with red. Davis felt his chest tighten.
He felt guilty for being the one person who had made her shed tears.
"Why are you crying?" His voice softened, laced with concern. "I only told you to stay back and get treated. Or... is it really that hard to hang a bottle?" He frowned, unsure if he was missing sothing bigger.
As much as he hated seeing her cry, he had to be strict with her. She needed to learn how to care for herself now, how to put herself first.
Her selfless attitude had always been a matter of concern to Davis, and he had always nagged her for being too careless—thinking about others without thinking about herself, even when chaos brimd before her.
Jessica bit her lower lip, her voice a whisper. "It’s... a bit difficult. And I’m not sick, Davis. Just... experiencing symptoms." She still wouldn’t look at him, staring at the floor like it held all the answers.
Davis let out a breath, his fingers brushed the tears from her lashes with slow care before he pulled her into a gentle hug.
"Baby," he said, his voice aching with emotion, "do you know what might happen if these symptoms spiral into sothing worse? You might also think it’s a symptom when in truth it has already taken from you so much. Do you think I could bear that? My heart’s not that strong." He concluded. Mm
Her pout deepened. "That still doesn’t an you should shout at ..."
At that, Davis felt a headache pulsing behind his eyes. For the past week, she had exhibited certain traits—she was turning into a full-blown sulky child, crying and throwing tantrums to get what she wanted.
The transformation from the fierce, sharp-tongued Jessica to this emotional, vulnerable woman was stunning and terrifying.
He sighed inwardly. He would have chosen to have the fierce Jessica over and over again. But as he stared at her now—teary-eyed and clinging—he knew, without a doubt, that he loved this version of her too.
"Alright, hubby was wrong. He won’t raise his voice at you again," he coaxed, rubbing her back gently.
"Now, can we talk about hanging the nutrient bottle?" His hand never stopped patting her back to keep her calm. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but even just one bottle would help.
"I can’t," she murmured, her voice trembling. "I’m... scared of hospitals."
Davis’ hand faltered, his heart skipped a beat as he detached himself from her, holding her shoulder and his gaze settled on her face as though he was seeing her for the first ti.
"You’re scared of the hospital?" he asked again unbelieving. "But you work in one. And not just one, but you are a surgeon, right?" he asked, his gaze searching her face.
Jessica gave a soft nod, her fingers nervously picking at her nails. "You’re right, I can go to the hospital, I can enter the operating room, I can offer resuscitation services if needed, and can do practically anything—but I have a phobia of hospitals," she answered resignedly.
"Then, if you have a phobia of hospitals and you’re able to handle your work efficiently, isn’t it possible you can also adapt after therapy?" he asked contemplatively.
"I can’t because I only have one thought—saving my mother. That’s what keeps going. Call it my coping chanism and you might not get it wrong." She answered helplessly.
Her voice cracked, and tears welled again in her eyes. "Every ti I treat soone, I feel like I’m bringing her back, even if it’s just in my mind. But when it’s about ... it’s different. I can’t breathe. I see her eyes. That pain. That smile she wore for even when she was slipping away."
For Jessica, she had always blad herself for being incapable. If she had been capable, she would have been able to perform that surgery. She should have been able to detect the poisoning. She had always asked herself "why."
After that, she made a decision to save her if given a chance—every surgery, every shift, every care she gave had one purpose: keeping her mother alive.
But when it ca to her own health, the mories turned dark. She saw herself weak, breathless, watched by a loving yet pained gaze.
In the past, she had fallen unconscious just because her subordinate thought the distance to the base was much and sent her to the hospital for treatnt.
Davis felt like soone had knocked the air out of his lungs seeing her red eyes and tears flowing from the open wound in her heart.
The woman who had always stood tall to protect him and shield him was nursing wounds deeper than he’d ever imagined.
She had built her entire life around that one loss, and now that she was the one in need, everything ca crashing down that saving her will even turn to her death.
"Does that an, he had to plan her giving birth to be at ho?" He mused silently
He swallowed hard and embraced her tightly. "It’s okay," he whispered into her hair. "You don’t have to go to the hospital. We’ll do the treatnt at ho, and I’ll take care of everything."
She didn’t respond, but he felt her arms slowly wrap around his back, holding him like he was the only thing keeping her afloat.
In the past, she had always taken treatnts at ho and dared not keep her eyes open to witness the process.
That was one of the reasons she had an equipped ergency room in her house. Her subordinates had also been instructed not to take her to hospital no matter how terribly hurt she is.
"I’ll be with you," he said. "Until you heal. Until the shadows don’t scare you anymore," he said with an assurance and promise from the heart.
Jessica nodded lightly. She had always kept this pain hidden but never thought it would resurface at the ntion of going to the hospital.
Maybe... maybe it’s ti to heal this wound. Or maybe this was what healing looked like—tears shared, hearts opened, pain finally seen. Yet, she couldn’t help marveling at her emotional control rating that had crashed to zero.
She sighed briefly, a faint murmur coursing through her lips. "I am getting too dependent and emotional. I’ve to do sothing about it."
Davis pulled her away from himself, seeing her fully calm. "What can you do about it?"
"Anything. Or don’t you find a burden?" she asked with a raised brow. She had always rembered her father’s words when her mother died and she was crying.
George had said, "Nobody will want a crybaby like you. Not even your mother would want you." His voice had bood through the entire ward and had remained imprinted in her mory.
At that instant, she had wiped her tears and promised her mother not to be a crybaby. She no longer cried no matter how hurt she was but would suppress the pain.
Now, with Davis’ interference, it seed all these facades were broken by him, leaving a vulnerable, dependent lady.
"Why do I have to find you a burden? No matter how it turns out—I will be there with you," he said, a faint smile on his face.
Jessica nodded with a sigh of relief and with determination to get her wounds healed and beco the best lady she could be.
Davis smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Now let’s just hope Deborah doesn’t nag you again for missing breakfast."
Jessica groaned, her forehead pressing against his chest. "Don’t even remind . I’m not ready for her lectures."
Deborah had unknowingly taken another role in their life. A steady figure, a silent guardian. Jessica might have grown up without her mother, but Deborah for the past week had filled a part of that void with grace.
Just two days ago, Jessica had been working late in the dining hall. Deborah had appeared suddenly, her expression warm but firm.
"Madam, you’re still working?" she asked with that gentle but disarming smile.
Jessica had nodded, brushing it off. "Almost done."
Then ca the unexpected.
"I don’t an to interfere," Deborah said softly, "You have spent eight hours straight, you need to rest."
Before Jessica could protest, she was carefully guided into her room while being leashed with lectures on why young girls her age should have enough rest.
As they ca into her room, she had been carefully tucked in like a child. Jessica had laid there in shock, heart brimming with emotions she couldn’t na. She couldn’t help asking herself if her mother had reincarnated.
A soft knock on the door jolted her back to the present. Davis smirked knowingly.
"She’s here."
Jessica groaned but got up, opening the door to find Deborah standing there with a tray of breakfast.
"I-I was just about to co down," Jessica stamred.
"I figured you might be too tired," Deborah replied with a smile. "And Ethan told you worked late again."
Jessica hesitated. "It’s okay. After today and tomorrow, things will calm down."
"I had the food reheated. If you don’t like it, let know," she said handing the tray to her before leaving. Jessica stood at the door watching her leave. She sighed deeply.
She carried the tray in and placed it on the bed. Her stomach grumbled loudly as the aroma filled her lungs.
In the room, she set the table up and invited Davis over for their al.
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