"..." Alia gritted her teeth in frustration, her pale and delicate fingers unintentionally clenched as if debating whether to accept this suggestion or not.
After a long silence, she let go of all her anger.
"Forget it, if I argue with you, it just shows how childish I am. Get up and drink so soup. The doctor said you need to have abdominal surgery in a few days, so you better start taking good care of yourself."
He was expressionless, speaking in a low voice, "You know everything now, right? This is how it’s going to be for from now on."
"So what? Falling from the seventh floor and still being alive is a miracle itself. Do you still want to hop around and continue your old ways of causing trouble and being overbearing?"
Christopher "looked" at her, his thin lips faltered open, and after a while, he squeezed out, "You seem... to wish I were dead?"
"If you insist on interpreting it that way, I can’t help it."
Alia knew that for a person like Christopher, the last thing needed was pity or sympathy, so there was no use in offering comforting words. Going head-to-head with him was the only way!
Indeed, as the argunt progressed, Christopher got flustered and she led him by the nose, "Is this how you treat a patient? Is this the attitude of soone visiting the sick?"
The woman laughed a little, unyielding, "You still recognize that you’re a patient? Not cooperating with the doctor’s treatnt, being irritable, unreasonable, driving away the caregivers, yelling at children—I see you’re lively enough, hardly looking like a patient at all."
"..." Mr. Hart completely shut up and couldn’t continue.
Seeing him thwarted, Alia snorted coldly and sat down by the bed, "Get up, drink the soup! If you don’t cooperate, believe , I’ll throw this whole bowl of soup in your face!"
She’s still not treating him like a patient!
She was incredibly busy yet had personally made and brought soup to the hospital; wasn’t this attitude enough?
You have to be content; otherwise, you’ll never be satisfied and never live happily.
Christopher still remained silent.
Alia slowly raised his headboard a bit, then scooped so soup, tasted it, and carefully fed it to him.
The spoon touched the man’s lips, but he didn’t move.
Alia stared at his face, now thin with sharp features like craggy mountains, his eye sockets sunken, his lips pale and dry, peeling—Really pushing it!
"You think I wouldn’t dare to splash it, don’t you?" Before her words fell, she withdrew the spoon, about to splash the bowl of soup on his face when he urgently let out a sound, "Hot."
Hot?
Alia looked at his awkward face, rcilessly exposing him, "I just tasted it; it’s not hot! If you’re looking for a way out, at least find a plausible one."
"..."
She fed him again, and this ti he obediently opened his mouth and drank.
"Are you really Alia?" After the spoon left, Mr. Hart asked doubtfully.
The woman gave him a look, knowing what he ant.
As she fed him another spoonful, she snorted coldly, "What, think I’m too fierce? Don’t worry, we’re divorced now, I won’t abuse you."
"..."
Is this really Alia?
Her change was too drastic.
"Before my accident, were you like this?"
"Why so many questions?" Alia now was the one getting impatient.
The man’s face fell, silent, obediently drinking the soup.
He just found it strange.
If Alia had turned into this Matron Kali, how could he still be so obsessed with her?
Was Benny Palr sure he wasn’t deceiving him?
After finishing a bowl of soup, Alia Garcia knew he hadn’t had enough, so without a word, she stood up and poured another bowl.
"You treated the children in a way today that I hope is the first and last ti. The next ti I bring them over, you apologize to them of your own accord," Alia Garcia said as she fed him the soup and steered the conversation back to serious matters.
Christopher Hart’s expression beca even more stern as he whispered, "Don’t bring them here anymore..."
Alia Garcia replied, "A child does not despise his mother’s ugliness, have you not heard that saying?"
Upon hearing this, Christopher Hart knew that she understood everything.
His little-known feelings of embarrassnt were crystal clear to her, which made Christopher Hart feel even more awkward and embarrassed.
Seeing that he did not respond and did not get angry, the woman’s tone also beca calr, "No matter what you turn into, in the children’s eyes, you are still an unstoppable superhero."
He was slightly surprised; his eyelashes lifted, and his unfocused eyes sparkled for a mont, "They think that?"
"What else? The world of children is very pure and innocent, unlike so people who have a ss of thoughts in their heads."
"..."
"It’s amazing, really. The Christopher Hart I knew was fearless, so stubborn that even the emperor would have to step aside—yet now, you’re knocked down by a little setback, wallowing in self-pity and depression."
After being continuously criticized, Christopher Hart, embarrassed and ashad, couldn’t help but defend himself, "A little setback? I’m blind, paralyzed, my mory is scrambled and missing—I’m no different from a cripple—do you think that’s nothing?"
"But you’re still alive! As long as you’re alive, everything is possible! Besides, even if you never recover, you’re still wealthy and powerful, have sons and daughters. As long as your mind works, you can still create value, do the work you want to do."
Christopher Hart muttered, "Those are just comforting words."
"They’re the truth. There are plenty of people worse off than you who manage to live well."
"Why should I compare myself to those worse off than ?"
"..." Alia Garcia rolled her eyes in exasperation upon hearing this and shook her head, "Forget it, just drink your soup and stop talking."
Unknowingly, the second bowl of soup was also finished.
She put the bowl away and instructed, "There’s more in the thermos, have the caretaker warm it up and feed you later. Also, if your mother brings you soup, drink so of it."
Mr. Hart listened to her seemingly random words, puzzled, "Why?"
"What do you an, ’why’!? If you only drink what I bring and not what your own mother brings—They’ll hate even more! God knows what they might think, that I am making you drink love potions every day!"
Christopher Hart "stared" at her, stunned for a few seconds before asking, "You... why do you suddenly care what my mother thinks of you? Are you planning to beco..."
"In your dreams!" Knowing what he was about to say, Alia Garcia quickly interrupted, "I have no intention of becoming a daughter-in-law of the Hart Family again, nor am I looking to improve the relationship with your parents. I just hope not to spark wars every ti we et. It wouldn’t matter if the kids weren’t there, but if they were, it’d be bad for them."
Outside the hospital room, Emma Carter’s hand rested on the doorknob, hesitant to push it open.
George Hart glanced at his wife’s expression, took her hand, and pulled her away.
"What are you doing pulling ? I need to go in there and drive that Fox Spirit away!" said Emma Carter angrily.
George Hart looked back at her, "Your son is finally willing to eat sothing. Are you sure you want to go in there and cause another scene right now?"
"Who’s causing a scene?" Emma Carter challenged, eyeing her husband’s expression, then suddenly narrowing her eyes in surprise, "You haven’t been bewitched by that woman, have you?"
Before George Hart could reply, she hurriedly asked again, "Are you really thinking about apologizing to her?"
"Emma, can you please not fly off the handle every ti? If it was really our fault in the past, then an apology is proper. Only thing is... this woman really isn’t suitable to be a daughter-in-law of the Hart Family."
Emma Carter scoffed, "At least you haven’t completely lost your senses! But an apology won’t happen unless she first willingly returns the two children."
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