“Sophie, drink some warm water and calm down. Don’t let your anger hurt you.”
The scene in front of me blended with a flood of memories—countless moments of flattery and forced smiles.
I suddenly felt utterly exhausted.
It was almost laughable.
I walked to Emily’s room and whispered, “Emily’s asleep now. I don’t want to wake her.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll move out tomorrow.”
I gently pushed open the door and lay down beside her.
She opened her eyes, sleepy and confused. “Mom, are you crying?”
Her small voice trembled as she asked, “Mom, does Daddy not want us anymore?”
I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and covered my mouth.
But Emily hugged my neck tightly, her small voice fierce, “Mom, don’t cry. I still have Emily. Emily will always be with you.”
I held her close, voice breaking, “Mom loves you. Go to sleep, baby.”
But the next morning, Emily was drenched in sweat.
I touched her forehead—she had a high fever.
The doctor warned that with her weak heart, a fever could be dangerous.
I rushed her to the hospital.
As I was about to pay at the clinic, I saw Charles arrive, accompanied by Sophie.
In my hurry, I accidentally bumped into Sophie.