""""
..." He was silent, his expression unchanging.
"Think carefully now, if you don’t drink today, I’ll never co again."
"Then don’t co. Just take the children and leave." He finally spoke up, stating his position.
Alia’s expression changed slightly as she frowned at him. After a long silence, she smiled and said, "I thought you would play the pity card with your current state, to make feel guilty, so that I would wait on you hand and foot... But it turns out, you’ve completely given up, letting go free..."
She looked incredulous, pausing before continuing with sarcasm, "It seems your brain really is damaged. You’re nothing like the old Christopher Hart."
... The man pressed his lips tightly and his face tensed, obviously holding back.
"But whether you’re the old Christopher Hart or not, since I’ve taken the trouble to cook soup for you, you’ll have to drink it obediently. At the very least, I have to set a good example in front of the children, otherwise they’ll think their mother is heartless—in their father’s state, mother is neglectful."
She deliberately finished with a challenging tone and re-offered the spoon to the man’s lips, her voice tinged with impatience, "Hurry up and drink, I don’t have all day to spend with you."
Christopher could no longer bear it, "Since you don’t want to co, and no one’s forcing you!"
"I told you, I have to maintain a good image in front of the children!"
"Then you’ve delivered it, and you can leave."
The woman replied lazily but assertively, "That won’t do. I have to see you drink it with my own eyes, otherwise if you dump it, my efforts would be wasted."
... Christopher once again swallowed his anger, his generally vacant gaze sharpening, "Do you think provoking like this is effective?"
"Why should I provoke you? What does your well-being have to do with ?" she retorted dispassionately.
...
She pressed on, "Christopher, if you weren’t the father of my three children, do you think I would even bother to see you now?"
... He was still silent, but his expression had turned to shocked coldness.
"Moreover, you know very well how much you’ve wronged in the past, don’t you think it’s ti to make ands? You should cooperate with my act, so the children will think their mother has done right by their father—this is your responsibility and duty."
Alia had said what needed to be said, using threats and provocations, running out of patience, she commanded angrily, "Drink!"
The man’s lips drew in, showing a mix of grievance and submission. After a few seconds of standoff, he finally opened his mouth.
Alia ntally sneered as the soup went in.
Angered, her actions were far from gentle; it was as if she’d poured the soup in.
Christopher, blind, didn’t see how much she ladled, and was taken by surprise, choking on it.
"Cough... Cough cough—"
The sudden coughing shook his injured body, spasming and convulsing as his face quickly turned red, his eyes and brows brimming with pain.
"Are you alright? Do you need a doctor?" Terrified, Alia quickly put down the soup bowl, not daring to touch him, and turned to look for a doctor.
Hearing her leave, Christopher pressed through his pain to call her back, "Co back!"
She turned, her face full of hesitation and anxiety, "Are... are you really okay?"
The man lay there, gradually calming down, though he still coughed occasionally.
Seeing him drenched in sweat, Alia, in the end, couldn’t bear it, picked up a towel, and gently wiped his face and head with care.
Christopher felt her tender attention and mysteriously, a sense of comfort washed over him.
He heard from Benny Palr that she had been back for so days now but had never had a change of heart—no matter how sincerely he showed his feelings, she discarded them like rubbish, determined to sever ties.
So today’s treatnt could be considered a blessing in disguise.
"Does it... hurt a lot?" Seeing his brow not relax for a while, Alia put the towel back and asked softly.
Christopher Hart didn’t respond but retorted with a touch of irony, "It looks to like you’re not here out of kindness but out of spite, deliberately seeking revenge as if to commit murder."
"Hah! If I wanted to murder you, I wouldn’t have saved you at all!" Alia Garcia picked up the soup bowl again, dropped that remark, and the spoon headed towards his mouth once more.
This ti, the movent was much gentler and careful, like feeding a baby.
Christopher drank the soup, his eyes "looking" towards her, "Saved ? What do you an?"
Alia had not intended to talk about these matters, but seeing him so self-destructive and overwheld by negative emotions, she felt it was still right to speak up.
"The night we rushed to save you, the blood bank was in urgent need of A-type blood. The doctors were racing against ti, and every second counted. Your father, though a blood match, couldn’t donate due to his own health. It was I who donated three bags of blood to sustain you until the blood center could deliver more."
Christopher was taken aback, the spoon brought to his lips remained untouched.
Alia did not urge him on but continued, "So, Christopher Hart, you can say your life was saved by , too. If you’re intent on wasting away, living in chaos, you’ll need to see if I even agree to that."
The man didn’t speak, his face a picture of complex emotions.
The woman tapped his lips with the spoon, signaling him to keep drinking.
He spoke, but it wasn’t to drink the soup. Instead, he asked, "Weren’t you eager to leave ? Why save then?"
Alia, angered by the question, said, "Just because I don’t want to be with you doesn’t an I wish you dead! In that situation, any person with a conscience would do the sa, wouldn’t they?"
After saying this, she grew impatient again, "Are you drinking or not? My arm is feeling sore from holding it up!"
Christopher finally opened his mouth and, after drinking so soup, continued, "So... now my body has your blood in it."
Alia, fearing he might overthink it, said irritably, "Your body has many people’s blood in it."
""He had no response to that, leaving him speechless.
The hospital room fell silent, only the occasional sound of the spoon hitting the ceramic bowl was heard.
The man, who had been irritable for days, seed tad like a wild animal, obediently opening his mouth bite after bite, quickly finishing the bowl of soup.
"Want more?"
He said nothing, but the active bobbing of his Adam’s apple clearly showed he wasn’t quite finished yet.
Alia wore an utterly scornful and speechless expression on her face but turned around to pour another bowl of soup nonetheless.
Suddenly, she thought, it was quite good that he couldn’t see.
That way, she could roll her eyes at him heartily, pull faces, show expressions of disdain and contempt—after all, he couldn’t see it, haha!
She proceeded to feed him the second bowl of soup.
It had been many years since the two had coexisted so peacefully.
She took the opportunity to unabashedly stare at his face, her gaze silently tracing his eyebrows, his face, his nose, his lips, and even the distinct line of his jaw without missing anything.
The sunny and handso face from her mories slowly rged with the mature and austere one before her.
She couldn’t help but sigh quietly in her heart, life is indeed full of uncertainties; who could have imagined Christopher Hart being so pitiable that he couldn’t even take care of himself.
Actually, despite her cutting sarcasm earlier, deep down, she could understand him.
Such an earth-shattering change would be hard for anyone to accept, let alone Christopher Hart, who had always been high and mighty.
Ah... But no matter what one becos, life must go on.
So, she still hoped this man would pull himself together soon.
Whether he could ever return to looking like a normal person, at least ntally and emotionally, he should be like one.
He wasn’t done after the second bowl of soup.
But Alia didn’t plan to continue feeding him.
"Your body is special; you can’t drink too much at once. There’s so left in the thermos. Later, if you feel like having more, have the nurse warm it up and feed it to you," Alia said, noticing his fondness for the soup.
Christopher responded with a barely audible "Hmm," then paused, before asking, "Are you... leaving?"
Alia observed his expression.
Clearly, he was reluctant to let her go.
He had just driven her away, hadn’t he? "My mission is accomplished, so naturally I won’t stay to be a nuisance—oh, you can’t see now."
After saying that, for so reason, she suddenly waved her hand in front of his eyes again.
Feeling the air move across his cheek, Christopher asked in a strange tone, "What are you doing?"
"I’m verifying whether you really can’t see!"
"..." The man was clearly speechless, showing displeasure on his face, "Aren’t normal people supposed to avoid my sore spot? What’s the aning of constantly doing this?"
"Well, you said ’normal people,’ but I think you’re the one acting abnormally."
"..." Christopher was angered again.
Alia picked up her bag, ready to leave.
Only when she saw he was upset did she lazily explain, "Rest assured, I’m not that twisted to intentionally sprinkle salt on soone’s wound. I’m just worried that you might suddenly regain your sight and pretend to be blind to garner sympathy."
He was so shocked his tone changed, "Was I that kind of person before?"
"Worse! You were even more shaless than this before!"
"..." The man was so angry that he gritted his teeth and turned his head away. "You can go now."
"Don’t worry, I don’t want to stay a second longer!"
Before her words fell, the woman turned and left.
As Christopher felt her departure, almost at the instant she turned around, he quickly looked back, his lips moving slightly.
It was as if he wanted to stop her but didn’t dare to speak up.
Soon after, his face betrayed obvious disappointnt and dejection.
But Alia couldn’t leave smoothly.
—Because when she opened the door, Emma Carter stood outside, about to enter.
Their eyes t, both startled.
However, Alia quickly regained her composure, her expression calm and indifferent, preparing to let the person outside in and then leave herself.
But Emma had other plans.
"What are you doing here again?" After the initial surprise, Emma began with a reprimand and mockery, "After all the ugly words, have you no sha? Can’t you leave Christopher alone?"
As soon as his mother’s voice ca through, Christopher imdiately spoke up, "Mom! I asked her to co!"
Following behind Emma was a servant carrying a thermos.
Seeing her son defending Alia as usual, she turned around, took the thermos to signify the servant to leave, and glared at Alia. "You’re nothing but a ’Fox Spirit’! You’ve bewitched Christopher to the point that he doesn’t even recognize his own mother!"
Alia chuckled, "You really flatter , thinking I have that much influence."
"You—" Emma was left speechless with anger.
At that mont, Alia’s phone rang.
She answered in English, saying, "I’m at the hospital, about to leave. Okay... I understand, I’ll see you soon."
Undoubtedly, it was a call from Kane.
On the hospital bed, Christopher’s face instantly darkened.
But before he could speak, the woman at the doorway continued her phone call and walked away, not even bothering to say goodbye.
Emma, so angry she could have a heart attack, but helpless, could only close the door and enter with the thermos.
She had barely set the thermos down when she noticed another one on the nightstand. Without a second thought, she snatched that thermos and tossed it into the trash.
With a "clang," Christopher was startled.
"Mom, what did you throw away?"
"Just so trash."
"Did you throw away the thermos from the nightstand?"
Emma turned to look at her son, almost believing he had regained his sight.
Seeing his mother’s silence, Christopher knew he was right.
"Pick it back up, there’s still soup in it."
"I’ve brought you soup. I picked fresh ingredients from the market this morning and made it myself."
"Pick it back up. I want the soup from that thermos." His face turned towards his mother, his tone unchanged, repeating himself.
Emma stood still, grinding her teeth in secrecy, both angry and heartbroken.
How could she have raised such a son!
The atmosphere in the ward was heavy, at a stalemate.
Despite nearly crying with anger, Emma looked at her son’s rigid, uncompromising face and begrudgingly turned to retrieve the discarded thermos from the trash.
She slamd it down on the nightstand.
"Christopher, your father is so angry he refused to visit you today! Must you act like this? What on earth does that woman have that bewitches you so?"
Christopher didn’t respond but instead asked, "What exactly is so bad about Alia that you all are filled with prejudice and hostility towards her?"
"Do you need a reason to dislike soone?"
"Then do I need a reason to like soone?"
"..." Emma was at a loss for words.
"Besides... there are three children between us."
At the ntion of the children, Emma was even more incensed, "With you in this state, the children are registered under her na. Do they even have anything to do with you?"
"Her being here to see says it all." If Alia really was as cold and heartless as his parents claid, wouldn’t she have taken the children and left long ago, rather than waiting for him to wake up?
Seeing his mother remain silent, Christopher stated again, "Mom, in this life, aside from her, I will not be involved with any other woman. It doesn’t matter if you don’t accept it, I don’t care whether you do or not."
Angered, Emma stamped her foot hard, "I should be like your father and wish you dead! Why do I bother coming here to be upset!"
With that, she didn’t care whether her son ate or not, angrily turned, and left.
To her surprise, as soon as she opened the door, she was startled by the figure standing there.
Alia was also stunned for a mont before she sheepishly explained, "Uh... I left so docunts behind. I ca back to get them..."
Hearing her voice, Christopher on the bed abruptly turned his head toward her, his eyes regaining so luster.
Emma, seeing the woman before her and thinking about her son’s words that must have been overheard, her face turned an even deeper shade of red and green. She roughly brushed past Alia, still furious, and left.
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