Chapter 171 Meeting
That evening, Amelia pulled Juliana onto the balcony. They stood together, watching the ocean breeze roll in.
"Juliana, I'm so sorry. I never imagined..." Amelia's voice was heavy with defeat. "Wentworth is completely stubborn. He'd actually starve himself for Matilda. I don't know what else to do."
Juliana was quiet for a moment, then took Amelia's hand with an understanding smile. "Mom, I know you were trying to help me. But if this is Wentworth's choice, then there's nothing left to say. We should respect what he wants. If I can't be his lover, I'll be his sister. That's enough."
Amelia sighed, still helpless in the face of it all.
"Mom, Wentworth is desperate to see Matilda. We should let Charles bring her here. If we wait any longer, it might affect his recovery."
Amelia wrapped Juliana in a tight hug. "You're such a kind soul. I guess we'll only ever be mother and daughter in this lifetime. But if there's a next life, I won't have sons. Just daughters. Just you."
Juliana's smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
---
When Charles and Matilda learned Wentworth's location, they made the overnight drive to the seaside rehabilitation center.
What followed was absolute chaos.
Charles rounded on his mother immediately. "How could you do this? You knew Wentworth was injured and you hid him away. Do you have any idea how worried we've been?"
Amelia's expression was dismissive. "You keep saying 'we.' Which 'we' are you talking about? You and Matilda? Wentworth is my son. I carried him, I raised him. You think I'd hurt him?"
Zoey thought her mother-in-law had crossed a line, but she stepped in diplomatically. "Everyone, please. This is a medical facility. There might be other patients. Let's not disturb them."
Amelia's gaze landed on Nason, who'd followed them in. "Why is he here?"
The Everly family heir. She recognized him. The Everlys had always been competing with the Gonzaga family—copying their business ventures, never quite measuring up. They had to resent the Gonzagas for that.
Charles cut in quickly. "He's... my friend."
If he said Matilda had brought him, Amelia would have a field day with that information.
Matilda couldn't wait another second. "Mom, which room is Wentworth in?"
Amelia's face soured at the sight of her. "Upstairs. Room 203."
Matilda bolted for the stairs. The others hurried after her.
---
Inside the room, Juliana sat watch over Wentworth.
This would be the last time.
She sat in silence. He sat in silence too, waiting for his Matty.
Footsteps thundered up the stairs—urgent, desperate.
Juliana's heart clenched.
She's here.
The door flew open. Matilda burst through, then stopped short, her leg still not fully healed, her gait slightly uneven.
She stared at her man.
Tears streamed down her face unchecked. She swiped at them, fighting for composure, then slowly crossed the room to stand before Wentworth.
She placed her hand over his.
Wentworth grasped it, then reached up to touch her face—forehead, eyes, nose, mouth. Mapping her features like he was memorizing them all over again.
Then he leaned closer, studying her face from inches away.
This time, he was certain. This was his Matty.
He pulled her into his arms.
She finally broke, collapsing against his knees, sobbing into his lap.
A smile spread across his face—the same peaceful smile he'd worn that day picking gardenias for her.
Juliana watched the scene unfold, her chest tight with an ache she couldn't name. Tears slipped down her cheeks unbidden.
Everyone who'd followed Matilda into the room hung back, unable to intrude on the moment.
---
Morning came.
The rehabilitation center offered suite-style accommodations with enough space for family members to stay—as long as there weren't too many of them.
Nason knew he didn't belong here anymore. He found Matilda to say goodbye.
She'd been at Wentworth's side all night. When Nason appeared, she barely glanced up. "Be safe on your way back. Have a good flight."
Nason gave a bitter smile. He wasn't just going next door—he was flying back across the world. "Safe travels" didn't quite cover it.
But he turned and left without another word.
Amelia, still fuming, decided she wasn't needed anymore. Wentworth's recovery was well underway. She'd done her part—she deserved a break. She took Juliana to a nearby hotel and rented a suite. They could stay there. Let Matilda handle the caregiving.
She wanted to see if Matilda could manage in a foreign country on her own.
Room 203 had a patient suite plus two smaller bedrooms, a living area, and a courtyard. Charles and Zoey could stay if they weren't in a rush to leave.
Wentworth started eating again.
Matilda had Charles buy groceries so she could cook for Wentworth herself. Maybe it was the familiar taste, but his appetite came roaring back—several times his normal portions.
He ate with one hand and held Matilda's with the other. He blamed himself for being so out of it that he couldn't even recognize her touch. Now he gripped her hand carefully, relearning every detail.
The more attention he paid, the clearer the differences became. Both Matilda's and Juliana's hands were soft, almost delicate, but Matilda's had slightly more flesh. And because she worked constantly with needle therapy and physical rehabilitation, her palms had developed a subtle firmness.
He needed to commit her touch to memory completely.
Matilda's care was meticulous. She barely let Charles or Zoey help with anything.
Beyond cooking, she gave Wentworth massages. She'd gotten his medical records from Professor Morales and reviewed all the CT scans from the rehabilitation center. Under Morales's remote guidance, she administered physical therapy. She had Charles purchase acupuncture equipment and treated Wentworth daily.
When the center's doctors saw her working on the patient, they shouted, "No! Stop!"
Charles intercepted them, insisting they not interrupt her.
Whether it was her medical skill or simply her presence, Wentworth's recovery accelerated dramatically. His vision cleared to ten meters. His hearing synchronized, both ears finally working in harmony.
With his hearing restored, he started speaking again. The phrase he repeated most often was, "Matty, thank you."
When Amelia and Juliana visited days later, they were shocked by how much progress he'd made.
Juliana's surprise was genuine.
Amelia's was mixed with bitter disbelief.
How was this possible? How had he recovered so quickly?
Wentworth could stand and walk on his own now, making trips to the balcony and back without getting winded. He could communicate freely.
Amelia set down the nutritional supplements she'd brought. "Wentworth, can you hear me clearly?"
Wentworth nodded. "Yes, I can hear you."
Amelia pressed on. "Then you absolutely must thank Juliana properly. Without her care and devotion in those early days, you wouldn't have recovered this quickly. You held her hand constantly—practically wore it raw. Do you remember any of that?"