Chapter 1036: Madam, I Am Very Willing to Serve You

Silent tears shattered on the harp strings, falling onto the harp and breaking into pieces.

Timothy, standing behind, didn't see this. He frowned and walked over to Mary. "Professor Smith didn't blame you. No one blames you. You gotta stop dwelling on the past."

Before he could finish, Mary stumbled, and the harp in her arms knocked against the stool. She froze for a moment, then hurriedly took the harp back to her room and put it away, preparing to close the door.

"What are you doing?"

Timothy quickly stepped forward to stop her from closing the door, catching a glimpse of Mary's red, swollen eyes.

Her eyes were devoid of any light.

"You okay?"

Seeing Mary like this, Timothy couldn't help but remember how she was after the accident years ago. She had cried until she had no more tears left, her eyes red and swollen, her whole being numb, as if she had lost the will to live.

Timothy's heart filled with panic.

Without saying another word, he grabbed Mary and pulled her to the dining table, seating her down.

Mary, unable to resist his strength, found herself sitting in the chair before she even realized what was happening.

"What are you doing?" Mary looked at Timothy, noticing a rare hint of panic in his usually cold eyes.

Was she imagining it?

Mary couldn't help but be distracted.

Timothy placed his hands on her shoulders, looking at her seriously. "Mary, your dad loved you more than anything. His last words to me were to take care of you and make sure you live a happy life."

Mary's eyes flickered, her mind blank.

"He loved you the most. If you keep living in self-blame and hurting yourself, it'll be him who suffers the most. Do you get that?"

Timothy's voice was penetrating, easily reaching Mary's heart.

"By living, you represent your dad. The happier and more fulfilled you are, the more at peace he'll be, wherever he is."

The long-buried pain and sorrow in Mary's heart were suddenly exposed. She turned her head, tears falling uncontrollably onto Timothy's arm, soaking a large patch.

For so many years, she had been avoiding this issue, but the guilt and torment had never left her, not for a single day.

How could she forgive herself?

If it weren't for her selfishness, insisting that Kenneth come back overnight to celebrate her birthday, Kenneth would never have been in that accident!

It was all her fault!

Back then, she had even hated Timothy, who survived the car crash.

She had hated him so much!

She had gone mad, tearing at Timothy, asking why Kenneth had to die and not him!

But once she calmed down, she realized how vile and hateful she had been!

She was the one who had demanded Kenneth come back overnight!

Timothy had also been in the car crash and had been deeply traumatized!

What right did she have to blame anyone?

She was the one who deserved to die the most!

"I can't do it," Mary cried harder. "It was because of me that my dad had the accident."

"You're overthinking it," Timothy said, seeing her cry even more. He gently wiped her tears with a few tissues.

"You need to understand, the more you grieve, the harder it is for Professor Smith to rest in peace. Your life is his legacy."

Timothy's tone softened. "Let go of the past, okay?"

Mary didn't respond, burying her head in Timothy's arm, sobbing and trembling.

Timothy watched her with deep concern, not saying anything more, just letting her release her emotions.

After what felt like an eternity, Mary finally felt a bit lighter, having poured out all her pent-up sorrow.

She asked quietly, "I don't know what to do."

Years of guilt and pain had become a part of her life.

She didn't know how to let go.

"It's simple. Try to live each day fully. For example, today, celebrate your birthday properly."

Timothy smiled gently, glancing at the spaghetti on the table. "How about we go out for dinner tonight?"

"Dinner? Didn't you buy a cake?"

"Yeah, but the spaghetti's cold now." Timothy's usually cold face softened with a hint of warmth. "Since we've decided to celebrate, let's do it right."

"What?"

Mary was a bit stunned. She had never seen Timothy so impulsive.

While she was in a daze, Timothy had already packed up the cake box.

He smiled at her. "Come on, grab your bag. Let's go have your favorite meal."

Picking up the cake, he noticed his shirt was wet from Mary's tears and raised an eyebrow. "Wait a moment, I'll change my shirt."

Mary's face flushed slightly as she remembered accidentally soaking Timothy's shirt with her tears.

Timothy might not be as cold as he seemed. Sometimes, he could be quite gentle.

"No need to go out."

Mary stood at Timothy's door, her head down, her face as red as an apple.

"What?"

Timothy, in the middle of changing, turned to see her looking like a shy ostrich.

"No need to go out," Mary said a bit louder, awkwardly glancing at the door. "I learned to cook. We have fresh grouper at home. I'll cook for you."

Timothy looked at Mary in surprise, unable to hide his astonishment. "Are you sure you want to cook tonight?"

"I think, if we're going to celebrate properly, it would be more meaningful if I cooked a special meal myself. It would be a way to say goodbye to the past." Mary bit her lip, starting to regret her words.

She hadn't been cooking for long. What if she messed up?

Maybe they should just go to a restaurant.

"Alright."

Not giving Mary a chance to back out, Timothy raised an eyebrow, finding her desire to cook surprising but a good sign.

In previous years, she would lock herself in her room for days, not eating or drinking.

Now, she wanted to cook. That was a good thing.

Mary went to prepare the meal, and Timothy naturally didn't let her do it alone, helping out in the kitchen.

For a while, the atmosphere between them was warm and harmonious.

They seemed like a real couple, coming home after work to cook, chat, and joke together.

As Mary set the table, she glanced at Timothy, who was seriously chopping vegetables.

His fingers were long and slender, his knuckles distinct.

The pineapple slices he cut were almost identical in size and thickness.

A neurosurgeon's hands were indeed skilled, even in the kitchen.

Mary lowered her head, a smile unconsciously forming on her lips.

What used to be the hardest day of the year, today she tried to make peace with herself, cooking a meal with Timothy, and felt an indescribable warmth—like Kenneth was still there.

Dinner was ready before Mary knew it, lost in her thoughts.

When she came out of the bathroom after washing her hands, she was stunned.

Timothy had taken the short time she was in the bathroom to decorate the room thoughtfully.

The dimly lit room was softened by the glow of candles.

On the small table covered with a white cloth, there was a single romantic red rose.

Seeing Mary's surprised expression, Timothy's usually serious face turned a bit red. "A special dinner needs a special setting, so I did a little decorating."

Mary, realizing what he had done, smiled softly. "Alright, sir, then please pour me a glass of Bordeaux."

In a rare moment of playfulness, Timothy smiled indulgently and nodded. "At your service, ma'am."

They exchanged smiles, and Mary felt the darkness that had clouded her heart for three years finally give way to sunlight.