With visible reluctance, she finally grabbed the pills, tossing them into her mouth. Her face bore an expression of utter discontent as I handed her the glass of water. Pouting slightly, she accepted it, swallowing the medicine in one swift gulp. Suddenly, she began coughing, the water having gone down the wrong way. Her face turned crimson as she gasped for breath. Panicking, I patted her back, only for her to glare at me and snap, "It's all your fault! Were you trying to smack me to death?"

I offered an awkward smile and replied, "I was just trying to help."

She shot me a sharp look, but a faint smile tugged at her lips. I tucked her back into bed, watching as her eyes slowly closed and her breathing steadied. Returning to the living room, my thoughts spiraled endlessly. Had we reconciled? Had she forgiven me? But then, there was still her boyfriend... Ah, best not to dwell on it.

That evening, I prepared steamed crab, stir-fried shredded pork in Beijing sauce, a vegetable dish, and a simple tomato soup. When everything was ready, I went to wake her. She hadn't been sleeping well these past two days, and perhaps the medicine had a sedative effect—she was deeply asleep. Standing by her bedside, I leaned in and whispered softly, "Dinner's ready."

She turned over, facing the wall, and murmured groggily, "Not hungry."

Gently tapping her shoulder, I coaxed with a smile, "Come on, wake up. The crab will get cold."

This time, she rolled over to face me, grabbing my hand. "I don't want to eat," she mumbled, her half-closed eyes filled with drowsy confusion. I couldn't help but chuckle—who would have thought she had a lazy side?

Deciding to resort to a little trickery, I tickled the sole of her foot. She burst into laughter, writhing on the bed like a fish caught on a line, her melodic laughter filling the room. Springing up in protest, she grabbed a pillow and threw it at me, shouting, "That's for tickling my feet!"

Dodging with a grin, I teased, "Who told you to stay in bed?"

She puffed up her cheeks in mock anger, her smile betraying her amusement. Her expression was irresistibly endearing, a blend of annoyance and helplessness. At last, under my relentless pestering, she got up, rubbing her eyes and yawning as she made her way to the dining table. Sitting down, I placed a crab on her plate and said with a playful smile, "Here, try this—it's the dish you specifically requested."

The next morning, she skipped her usual run, sparing me from another ordeal. When I returned with breakfast, she was already awake.

At work, however, she was back to her commanding, no-nonsense demeanor. One moment she wanted this done, the next she demanded that—her way of finding some vindictive joy in keeping me perpetually busy. Or so I thought with an inward sigh.

Just then, my phone rang. It was my mother. Her voice, laden with urgency and fear, pierced through me. "Ryan, where are you? Come quickly to the hospital—your father's been beaten up."

My heart sank, a chill spreading through me. "Mom, how is Dad now? Has he been taken to the hospital?" I asked, my voice trembling as cold sweat formed in my palms.

"They've taken him, but I don't have the money for the surgery. The hospital won't proceed without payment," she choked out, her voice breaking into sobs. I could almost hear the tears falling on the other end.

"Don't worry, Mom. I still have some money. I'll transfer it to you right away." My chest felt as though it was on fire, desperation clawing at me. I wanted nothing more than to be by her side immediately.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Come over quickly,” my mother urged, assuming I was still in Eldoria.

"Mom, I'm on a business trip in Virelia, but I'll head back immediately. I'll send you the money first." I tried to reassure her, pulling out my phone with trembling hands. But the outdated device chose this moment to falter, refusing to open. Frustration surged through me, and I fought the urge to smash it in despair.

"Don't panic, don't panic. Let me transfer some money to you first. Give it to Auntie," Sophie stepped forward swiftly, her tone calm and soothing as she tried to comfort me.

"There's no need—I still have some," I replied, hastily wiping away the tears from my eyes. Inside, however, my thoughts were in disarray. With trembling hands, I transferred the remaining forty thousand yuan from my account to my mother.

"Mom, I've sent you over forty thousand yuan. Check if it's enough. If not, I'll find another way," I said anxiously, silently praying that this sum would suffice to meet the urgent need.

At that moment, my mother spoke with a hint of relief mixed with gratitude. "Elena came over. She helped me pay the hospital fees."

"Mom, why did you tell her?" I exclaimed, my voice tinged with frustration and unease.

"She meant well," my mother stammered, her words incoherent. I could sense Elena must be standing nearby. My mother must have been desperate to have called her.

Sure enough, Elena's voice followed. "Ryan, why aren't you here yet?"

"I'm still in Virelia for a business trip, but I'm heading back immediately. How is my father's condition?" I asked, my heart pounding with fear.

"It looks quite serious. I can't imagine who would use such brutal force," she replied, her tone carrying both helplessness and suppressed anger.

Hearing this confirmed my worst fears, and it felt as though a heavy blow had struck me. My head buzzed with a dull roar as tears involuntarily streamed down my face. In a choked voice, I said, "Thank you, Elena."

Her voice softened. "Ryan, don't worry. Your father is in the hospital now, and the doctors are doing their best to save him."

I turned to Sophie and said resolutely, "I have to go back."

Sophie furrowed her brows, her tone unwavering. "I'm going with you."

"There's no need," I said, shaking my head, guilt tightening my chest. "You have work to take care of."

"Stop wasting time," she said firmly, giving my shoulder a reassuring pat. "Let's go. I've already booked the tickets. We'll head straight to the airport. As for your things at the hotel, they can bring them back later."

She quickly made a call. "Driver, bring the car to the office building entrance. We're heading to the airport immediately."

A surge of gratitude overwhelmed me. Sophie, who usually appeared so composed and aloof, had decisively taken charge of everything in this critical moment. Her actions radiated a warmth that cut through my turmoil, a reminder of the support she offered when it mattered most.

The car arrived swiftly, and Sophie and I climbed in hurriedly. During the ride, Sophie took a call. From her terse words and the rising tension in her voice, it was clear the conversation wasn't going well. Recognizing the caller as Lucas, I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. My situation had caused friction between them. Though I harbored a tinge of discomfort seeing Lucas grow close to Sophie, I didn't want my troubles to disrupt their relationship. They seemed like the perfect pair—successful, educated, and capable.

When she ended the call, I spoke softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to cause misunderstandings. If it's better, I can handle this on my own. You should go with him."

She looked at me, startled, her eyes faintly red-rimmed. She didn't say a word, but I sensed her emotions ran deeper than she let on. Perhaps their argument had left her hurt, and her sadness only deepened my guilt. I resolved to focus on my work from now on, learning how to support her better in the future.

Four hours later, the plane landed. In my anxious rush to disembark, I momentarily forgot Sophie was by my side.

At the hospital, I found my mother and Elena waiting outside the operating room. Eight hours had passed, and the grim look on their faces told me all I needed to know—my father's injuries were grave. I broke down, overcome with fear at the thought of losing him. My father, who had risen from his humble roots as a farmer to become a contractor, had once experienced success. Yet his fortune lasted less than a decade before construction quality issues forced a halt in operations. The bank had demanded early loan repayments, causing the company's finances to collapse. Even so, my father never faltered. He worked tirelessly to repay his debts, unwilling to leave others unpaid. Why, then, would someone go so far as to harm him?