Thomas Smith sighed gently, his slightly weathered face passing through a sense of lancholy and nostalgia: "Back then, when I joined the army for missions, communication was not as advanced as it is now, losing contact was common, and then..."
He stopped suddenly halfway through his sentence.
Alia Garcia observed his expression and realized her question might have been too intrusive, so she quickly added, "If it’s inconvenient for you to talk about, you don’t have to. I can only say that my mother wasn’t lucky."
Thomas Smith shook his head, "There’s nothing I can’t talk about. I was on a mission, got injured, and was in a coma for a long ti. Being able to recover was a blessing in itself. That’s why I lost ti and missed the chance to contact your mother. By the ti I ca back, she was already married."
"She must have resented , thinking I abandoned her, and married soone else out of anger."
So that’s how it was!
Alia Garcia shivered, goosebumps spreading all over her body—they had missed each other so tragically, losing a lifeti.
This past made Alia Garcia a bit emotional, unsure how to respond, she sat in silent solitude, her brows lowered, as if sharing her mother’s sorrow.
Thomas Smith looked at her and curiously asked, "Did your mother ever ntion ?"
Alia Garcia raised her head, seeing his eyes full of anticipation, clearly hoping for an affirmative answer. She wanted to give one, yet... truth couldn’t be denied.
Moreover, even if she kindly lied, just a few more casual questions from him would reveal her deception.
Alia Garcia gently shook her head, without uttering a sound, unwilling to let him down.
But Thomas Smith’s eyes still showed desolation, disappointedly, self-mockingly, he smiled.
"It seems she truly hates , otherwise she wouldn’t have ntioned to anyone."
Alia Garcia couldn’t offer comfort, for she understood little of their distant past, not knowing where to begin with consolation.
The weather turned warm, the sunlit pavilion here was enveloped in warm sunlight, making it even cozier. The scenery was pleasant, suitable for relaxing afternoon tea conversations.
Unfortunately, the topic discussed robbed any joy from the atmosphere, even the scenery lost so of its charm.
The surroundings fell silent, only occasionally broken by the chirping of birds.
Thomas Smith seed lost in distant dreams, not speaking for a while, only sipping tea lightly. Charles Smith was beside him, elegantly and quietly brewing tea, then pouring it into his father’s teacup.
This tranquility was interrupted by Alia Garcia’s phone ringing.
She didn’t need to check it to know who was calling.
Indeed, the screen showed it was that guy.
She nodded slightly to the Smith father and son, picked up her phone, and walked out of the pavilion, stopping in front of the small waterfall by the rockery.
"Hello..."
"Where are you?"
Where? What did he an by that?
Before leaving, she clearly said she’d go ho to check on the kids and then make him dinner—yet now he inexplicably asked where she was.
Alia Garcia, highly sensitive, or perhaps knowing Christopher Hart well enough, suddenly realized, could he possibly know who she was with now?
"Why aren’t you speaking?"
The question from the other side strengthened Alia Garcia’s suspicion, prompting her to tell the truth: "I’m at the private restaurant we ate at last ti, um... it’s the founder of Mandrake, Mr. Thomas Smith who returned ho, we arranged to et in the afternoon."
In the hospital ward, Christopher Hart’s gloomy face showed less intensity after hearing the answer.
Just now, an executive called him, saying he went to the private restaurant to et an old friend and saw a young, beautiful woman from a distance, who looked just like Mrs. Hart, sitting with two n, unsure of what they were doing.
Christopher Hart imdiately guessed that this little girl had secretly gone to et the Smith father and son.
He wasn’t jealous.
He just felt that a woman eting alone with two n, no matter how reliable their character might be, was highly improper.
And hiding it from him made it even more improper.
Fortunately, this little girl was quick to react and knew to tell the truth.
"Why didn’t you tell about your eting?"
"At that ti, you had just co out of the operating room, feeling groggy, and I didn’t have a chance to say it."
"Not deliberately hiding it from ?"
"Why would I hide it? Didn’t I already tell you that Mr. Smith seed to have so relationship with my mother? Besides, he made a grand gesture to purchase the courtyard house, providing us great help. eting him to thank him in person is perfectly normal, isn’t it?"
"Hmm," Christopher Hart responded softly, then asked, "When are you coming back?"
Alia Garcia glanced back at the pavilion, estimating Thomas Smith might not be in the mood to continue the conversation at the mont, so she replied, "I’ll leave now. But I won’t have ti to cook soup and dinner for you when I get back."
"No problem, just eat sothing casually."
"Alright, I’ll head straight to the hospital then."
After hanging up the phone, Alia Garcia returned to the pavilion and before she could speak, Charles Smith stood up and said, "Did he call to hurry you?"
"Uh..." Alia Garcia smiled awkwardly, always feeling her man was so prone to jealousy, making outsiders laugh at her, "Uncle Smith, I have to go now, let’s talk another ti."
Thomas Smith got up, walked towards her, and asked, "When is it convenient for you to contact ? I want to visit your mother."
Visit my mother...
Alia Garcia thought of how she hadn’t been there for a long ti and imdiately nodded, "Alright. If my mother knows underground that you ca back looking for her, she’ll surely be pleased."
Charles Smith shook his phone, "I’ll send you my business card."
"Okay!"
"Also, wait a mont, I’ll have Uncle Mason instruct the kitchen to make a soup suitable for patients, so you can pack it and take it to the hospital." Charles Smith further instructed.
Alia Garcia was overjoyed and grateful: "Really...your thoughtfulness is too thorough! I was just thinking I wouldn’t have ti to make food for him when I got back, I didn’t expect you...that’s great!"
Charles Smith smiled, "It was nothing."
Indeed it was nothing, but to think of soone who’s neither family nor acquaintance reaching that level, it speaks volus of his exemplary character!
Snow Fitch really had a good eye!
Alia Garcia did not hesitate, insisted on paying at the counter before taking the packed soup Mr. Mason had ordered.
Watching the young woman leave, Thomas Smith withdrew his gaze and sighed, "If only Chloe were still here, how wonderful it would be! It was my fault to her, yet I never got the chance to apologize face to face."
Boss Mason comforted him, "You almost t King Rhys yourself, why talk about right or wrong. If she truly loved you, with a bit more determination, she should have waited for you to return."
Thomas Smith shook his head, "It’s good she got married after all, at least... she had a child to continue her bloodline. If she truly waited for to co back and followed ...she wouldn’t even have the chance to be a mother in this lifeti."
————
Christopher Hart drank the soup his beloved woman brought back, praising it endlessly: "Which restaurant made this? It tastes really good."
Alia Garcia shot him a sideways glance, "Your mouth really is sothing special, distinguishing the good from the bad with one bite."
The man glanced at her, then continued sipping soup, saying indifferently, "I haven’t provoked you, right? Why the sarcasm?"
"You haven’t provoked ? Has the matter of calling one hour ago to demand an explanation finished? You’re not suffering from amnesia, are you?"
"That can’t be blad on , who asked you to make such a remarkable impression at the dinner table a few days ago?"
"What do you an?"
Christopher Hart explained while sipping soup, "You were seen by an executive we entertained that day eting with the Smith father and son at the private restaurant. He called , with a face that seed eager to see being cuckolded; could I not ask?"
"..." Alia Garcia rolled her eyes helplessly, grumbling, "I didn’t expect middle-aged n to love gossip so much."
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