Chapter 171
I froze in place.
Not because George's words were hurtful or shocking, but because I clearly saw the complete indifference in his eyes.
He truly didn't take the divorce seriously, or rather, he didn't take my request for divorce seriously at all.
"George, time for your medicine." Sarah's timely voice broke the standoff.
She walked over with a glass of warm water, gently handing the water and pills to George.
Then she turned to look at me, smiling as she said, "Ms. Brown, I think you must have misunderstood what just happened, which is why you were so impulsive and said those things in anger, right? The doctor said George needs to be dried off promptly when he sweats, otherwise he might catch cold and get a fever again. So I was just wiping him down. I was very careful, really, there wasn't any excessive contact."
She paused, her eyes taking on a perfectly measured look of grievance, "Ms. Brown, don't be so petty. I'm just used to wiping George down, so I know how much pressure to use, and I won't make him uncomfortable."
Every word she said hinted at her intimate relationship with George, and subtly attributed my questioning to pettiness and misunderstanding.
Listening to her seemingly explanatory but actually boastful words, my heart remained strangely calm, without even a ripple of anger.
I just looked at her coldly until she finished speaking, then said in an almost indifferent tone, "Sarah, even if you were completely naked lying on top of him wiping his body, I wouldn't care. What are you explaining?"
Sarah's face instantly turned ugly, her carefully maintained smile freezing on her face, a flash of exposed embarrassment and humiliation crossing her eyes.
George remained silent throughout, just quietly taking his medicine, his expression still cold, as if the verbal sparring between us two women had nothing to do with him, or simply wasn't worth his attention.
I withdrew my gaze, no longer looking at either of them, refocusing on George with unprecedented clarity and determination, "George, I'm serious about the divorce. The court has officially filed the case. There's no point in dragging this out."
After saying this, I didn't wait for any response from him, nor did I look at Sarah's changing expression. I simply turned and left.
The heavy wooden door slowly closed behind me, shutting out the suffocating air in the hospital room.
I didn't leave immediately, but stood outside the door, quietly pausing for two seconds.
Not out of attachment—I just needed a moment to completely exhale the last trace of heaviness in my chest caused by the past.
It was during these two seconds that deliberately lowered conversation from inside the room drifted out through the not-quite-closed door.
It was Sarah's voice, carrying deliberate concern and flattery, "George, don't be angry. Ms. Brown must be speaking out of anger. She probably just felt uncomfortable seeing me here. How about this—I'll help you talk to her. Women understand women best. I'll have a good talk with her, and if you buy her some gifts to make up with her, everything should be fine."
She paused, her voice dropping lower, "And about Tom, I'll definitely get to the bottom of it. Don't worry, I'll give Ms. Brown a satisfactory answer so she won't misunderstand you anymore. I... I originally thought that by taking good care of you this time, I could make up for my mistakes, but I didn't expect Ms. Brown to misunderstand anyway. It's all my fault..." Her voice carried perfectly measured sobbing and self-blame.
Then came George's response, clear and distinct, "It's not your fault. It's her own problem. Don't bother."
Three short sentences, crisp and decisive, like three cold nails, firmly pinning all responsibility and blame on me.
I stood outside the door, listening to the conversation inside, my face expressionless.
George's voice was as indifferent as always.
At that moment, my heart didn't shatter with sudden pain. Instead, like a stone that had been repeatedly frozen, it finally reached its limit, cooling and hardening completely from the inside out, with no trace of warmth left, and no excess feeling remaining.
Fine.
This way, I would never again have any unnecessary emotional fluctuations because of this person.
Without any hesitation, I turned and walked away with determined steps.
When I reached the elevator, I happened to run into Steven coming out of another elevator carrying an elegant food container, obviously bringing George lunch.
When he saw me, his steps instinctively paused.
When his gaze met my face, he was clearly stunned.
Perhaps my expression was too cold, or perhaps the aura I emanated—cold yet carrying a certain inviolable dignity—was completely different from the gentle, even somewhat timid Mrs. Smith in his memory.
Steven almost instinctively quickly lowered his head, avoiding my gaze.
For a moment, he actually didn't dare meet my eyes.
I didn't look at him, didn't stop walking, and passed right by him, stepping into the open elevator.
The elevator doors slowly closed, shutting out Steven's somewhat stiff profile.
I returned to my mother's hospital room.
Echo, the caregiver I'd hired, had already arrived—a kind-faced woman in her fifties who looked capable and efficient.
Seeing me return, she said softly, "Ms. Murphy just fell asleep. Her color looks better than this morning. Don't worry and go take care of your business. I'll stay here and watch over her. If anything happens, I'll call you right away."
"Thank you." I nodded at her, my tone sincere.
"No need to thank me, it's my job." Echo waved her hand, then looked at my face carefully with concern, "But Ms. Brown, why is your face so pale? Are you feeling unwell somewhere? Maybe you should get checked out at the hospital too?"
I shook my head, forcing a smile, "I'm fine, just a bit tired. I'll feel better after going home and resting."
I didn't stay long at the hospital and drove home.
The house was empty, still holding traces of the warm atmosphere from when I'd sent Milly to kindergarten that morning.
I collapsed on the bed, trying to sleep and temporarily set aside the day's exhaustion and heartache.
But sleep wasn't peaceful. My dreams were bizarre and chaotic—sometimes my mother's face lying in the hospital bed, sometimes George's cold, indifferent eyes, sometimes Sarah's seemingly gentle but actually provocative smile.
It was time to pick up Milly. I forced myself to wake up, splashed cold water on my face, and looked at my pale reflection in the mirror, taking a deep breath.
I couldn't bring this mood to Milly.
After adjusting my mindset and trying to soften my expression, I drove to the kindergarten.
After picking up Milly, I crouched down to her eye level and told her in as relaxed a tone as possible, "Milly, your grandma accidentally fell and hurt her leg. She's staying in the hospital for a few days, but she's okay. The doctor said she'll get better soon. How about we video call her tonight?"
Hearing this, Milly's big eyes immediately filled with worry, "Does it hurt Grandma?"
"A little bit, but she's very brave and not scared." I stroked her head.
That evening, Milly earnestly video called my mother.
In her sweet childlike voice, she reminded my mother to eat well and listen to the doctor, and sang her a new song she'd learned at kindergarten, making my mother laugh on the other end of the call. Her complexion even looked a bit rosier.
Watching Milly's adorable and caring manner, seeing her successfully dispel the worry from my mother's face, the knot in my heart also loosened considerably.
At least I still had Milly.
At least my family loved each other deeply and supported one another.
After Milly fell asleep, I returned to the study and, after thinking it over, still called William.