She sat down helplessly, crossing her arms over her chest, and a trace of sorrow flickered in her eyes. I busied myself with sorting through things, and the room fell into a quiet stillness, broken only by the sound of me rifling through items.

"Do you know, I'm actually terrified of being alone?" she suddenly spoke, her voice low and heavy.

I paused in my actions and turned to face her. "What are you afraid of?"

"Afraid of loneliness, afraid of having no one with me," her voice faltered, "Every time I'm sick, I'm always alone. No one to take care of me, no one to talk to."

Her words pierced my heart, and I walked over to gently take her hand. In these past few days, this woman, usually as strong as steel, had revealed so much fragility and helplessness before me. There was a vulnerability in her eyes that I had never seen before, leaving me momentarily unsure of how to respond.

"I think you and Lucas are actually very well-suited to each other. Can't you make things work?" I said softly, with a hint of both concern and probing.

Upon hearing this, her expression shifted immediately, and she shot me a glare, her eyes sharp like a blade. "Why does my life need your opinion?" Her voice was icy, as though a wall had been erected in an instant.

I hadn't expected my well-meaning words to be so unwelcome, and a dull ache settled in my chest. Hastily, I changed the subject. "I've finished packing. Let's head back. I'll make you something delicious for lunch."

Her expression softened at once, a glimmer of anticipation in her eyes. "Alright. From now on, you'll be my personal chef. You'll have to cook for me every day."

I smiled, "Only temporarily. You'd better hurry up and find a boyfriend. He'll be the one cooking for you in the future."

At this, her face darkened again, and she pouted. "I don't want it anymore. I don't want you to cook for me. Really."

"What's wrong now? I didn't say anything wrong," I said helplessly, looking at her.

"Of course you didn't say anything wrong. How could Ryan ever be wrong?" she said, feigning grievance, but there was a glint of mischief in her eyes.

"Ah, how can you be like this? Can't you speak properly?" I sighed, exasperated.

"Can't. I'm going to tell my mom that you're bullying me, bullying me while I'm sick." She pouted, her voice childish and playful.

"Sophie, why do I feel like you're suddenly so fond of acting cute now that you're sick?" I laughed, shaking my head.

"None of your business," she replied, turning her head away, though the corner of her mouth curled up slightly.

"Let's go. Aren't you going home?" I patted her shoulder, signaling her to rise.

She stood up and skipped toward the door, her steps light and carefree, as though the earlier gloom had lifted completely. However, as she reached the door, she slipped and nearly stumbled. I rushed to catch her, and she clung to my arm, patting her chest as she said, "You scared me to death."

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I joked, "Stop patting, or it'll flatten."

"Flattened or not, it's none of your business. Don't overthink it," Sophie replied, her tone tinged with mild impatience, though her hand still clung tightly to mine. Her smile was like sunlight on a spring bloom, warm and radiant, reminding me of her when she first entered university—youthful, carefree, her smile as innocent as a doe's.

As we reached the car, I had just settled into the driver's seat when she eagerly said, "For lunch, make me stir-fried chicken with cashews and grilled fish!"

As I fastened my seatbelt, I furrowed my brow. "You've just recovered from a cold. You should be eating something light."

She pouted in displeasure. "Oh, I'm completely fine now. Look, I could fight a bull right now!" With that, she raised her fist, as though to demonstrate her newfound strength.

I couldn't help but laugh, stealing a glance at her. "Right, you almost slipped and fell just now."

She swatted at my hand and teased, "Oh, come on, stop it."

I sighed helplessly. "Alright, how about I steam some fish for you and stir-fry some shredded pork with vegetables?"

She pouted again, clearly dissatisfied. "Don't you have something spicy?"

"Still craving something spicy?"

"Well, whose fault is that? It's all because of you! You always wanted to eat those things, and now I've gotten used to them." With that, she suddenly grabbed my right hand and bit down hard. "You're such a jerk."

I felt the pressure of her bite—though it stung slightly, there was more of a comforting sense of closeness. I chuckled softly. "I'll make it for you in a few days, once you're fully recovered."

She immediately shifted the subject. "Alright, let's go grocery shopping. Where are you driving us? To the mall?"

At that moment, I had the distinct feeling that we had never really been apart, like a married couple once again. I wished Sophie could stay as sweet and playful as she had been these past few days, but deep down, I knew too well—this woman hated me too much, and was too capricious. It was only a matter of time before she would return to being the cold, distant Sophie I once knew.

The summer sun streamed through the mall's floor-to-ceiling windows, casting shimmering patches of light on the polished floor. Sophie and I walked side by side into this bustling space, surrounded by the hum of crowds and the dazzling array of shelves filled with goods.

Sophie gripped my hand tightly, as though afraid I might vanish the moment she let go. Her hand was slender and soft, yet exuded an undeniable strength. I could feel the warmth from her palm, a warmth that seeped through my skin and calmed the restlessness in my heart.

As we entered the fresh produce section, Sophie's eyes immediately brightened. She became like a jubilant little bird, pulling me between the stalls. "Look at how fresh this tomato is!" She picked up a plump, red tomato and held it up to me, her face glowing with excitement. I nodded, watching her energetic demeanor, a warmth blossoming in my chest.

She then dragged me to the vegetable stand, carefully selecting each bundle of greens. "This lettuce looks so tender. Should we stir-fry it for dinner?" She turned to me, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. I smiled in response. "Alright, I'll listen to you, even though you're the patient." Upon hearing my answer, her smile grew even brighter, like a flower blooming in the spring, beautiful and captivating.

As Sophie continued to pick out vegetables, she eagerly shared her culinary tips with me. "When stir-frying vegetables, you must use high heat and cook quickly, that way they retain their color and texture," she said with utmost seriousness, confidence shining in her gaze. I listened quietly, nodding in agreement. In that moment, I saw the familiar Sophie—passionate about life, and always experimenting with food in the kitchen.

Next, we arrived at the fruit section. Sophie spotted a basket of fresh strawberries, and her eyes widened. "Ryan, I want strawberries," she said, tugging on my arm and pouting sweetly. Without hesitation, I grabbed a box of strawberries and placed them in the shopping cart. She gleefully spun around, holding my hand.

"Look at this mango! It looks so sweet!" Sophie exclaimed, holding up a mango to her nose and inhaling its fragrance. "How about we buy a few and make mango pudding?" She blinked up at me with eager eyes. I smiled and replied, "Sure, as long as you're the one making it, I'll happily eat anything you cook." At my words, a faint blush spread across her face, and she leaned gently against my shoulder.