Chapter 61 As Long as You Take Care of Your Eyes

Chapter 61 As Long as You Take Care of Your Eyes
"She has night blindness and mild optic nerve damage," the doctor said, opening the report.
Tyler's back went rigid, his hands clenched tightly at his sides as his breath caught, tension etched across his face.
"Optic nerve?" he asked in a low voice. "Did she suffer a head injury?"
His face drained of color.
The doctor quickly waved his hand.
"No, it's a mild injury not caused by external force."
Tyler steadied himself.
"Does she need surgery?"
Startled by Tyler's earlier expression, the doctor quickly shook his head. "It's not that serious."
"Will it have a big impact?" Tyler pressed. "She still wants to paint."
The doctor reassured him, "She'll be fine with normal daily activities. She might experience some dry eyes, occasional dizziness, or nausea."
He paused, then added, "It really is just mild."
Tyler nodded, then asked, "What caused that?"
The doctor carefully explained, "High stress, nervous exhaustion, eye strain... any of those could be possible."
"Could it be from crying?"
The doctor nodded. "It's all possible. Crying has damaged her eyes."
"Can it be treated?" Tyler asked, frowning.

"Don't worry. It can be cured. Take medication and regular follow-ups," the doctor said, handing him the prescription.
Tyler took the medicine back to the waiting area.
Ellie set down her teacup with a soft click.
CLICK!
A trace of tea lingered on her lips.
Tyler walked over.
She tilted her head back, lashes fluttering.
He leaned down and kissed her eyes softly.
Ellie closed her eyes instinctively.
The kiss lasted only two seconds.
She opened her eyes, still a bit dazed.
"Let's go," Tyler said.
Ellie stood and followed him.
"Why did you just kiss me?" she asked.
"You're beautiful. I couldn't help myself," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone, as if commenting on the weather.
Ellie paused.

Silence hung between them.
Once they were out of the hospital, Tyler sent the medical report to the nutritionist.
Ellie looked at the white car in the parking lot and suddenly spoke up.
"Tyler, I want to drive."
He paused for a moment.
He opened the passenger door. "Another time."
"What's wrong with my eyes?" she asked.
He turned to face her directly.
"Night blindness and dry eye syndrome. If you want to keep painting, take your medicine, and don't stay up late. Got it?"
Ellie stared at him.
"Optic nerve damage. Mild." He lowered his head slightly.
She furrowed her brow slightly, her lips pressing together in worry.
"It sounds scary, but it's treatable. Just give it some time." He paused. "As long as you take care of your eyes."
Ellie nodded and slid into the passenger seat.
On the way——
"Let's stop by the supermarket," Ellie said. "Could you buy a bath towel?"
He glanced at her sideways.
"You don't like me using your towel?" he asked.
Ellie turned her head to look out the window, and half of her face was reflected in the glass.
"Just being hygienic."
Tyler raised an eyebrow. "No."
"You, an heir to a wealthy family, insist on using my towel?"
He smiled, tapping his fingers lightly on the steering wheel.
"You remember I'm the heir, so do what I say, alright?"
Ellie stared out the window.
"Shut up," she murmured.
Ellie stared out the window, her eyes distant, masking a swirl of mixed emotions.
A red light appeared ahead, and the car slowed to a stop.
Without turning his head, he reached out to find her hand.
His palm was warm, and his knuckles were defined.
He parted her fingers and slowly interlaced them with his own.
Their fingers were locked together.
His thumb brushed lightly against the web of her hand.
The light turned green.
The car glided back into the night, and he didn't let go.
They went to the supermarket.
Tyler picked out a gray bath towel, tossed it into the shopping cart, and turned into the produce section.
Ellie followed behind, watching as he loaded a carton of eggs, a bag of baby spinach, a whole block of salmon, a box of blueberries, and some whole wheat toast into the cart.
Back to the apartment——
"You want me to cook for you?" she asked.
"Can you cook?"
"What about you?"
Tyler paused.
"I only know how to pan-fry chicken breasts. With salt and black pepper."
Ellie was silent for two seconds, rolled up her sleeves, and walked toward the stove.
Before she could touch the spatula, he sidestepped.
"Your hands are better suited for a paintbrush," he said, looking down as he turned on the induction cooktop.
Ellie froze.
She stepped back to the kitchen island, crossed her arms, and watched.
Tyler began preparing the ingredients.
His movements were practiced—clearly cooked often.
"You're a liar, aren't you?" she said.
The olive oil in the skillet had just begun to sizzle.
"You've got the nerve to say that? Hmm?" Tyler placed the salmon skin-side down in the pan with a sizzle. "Carly Grace, who's the liar here?"
Ellie was momentarily at a loss for words.
"The stuff I eat every day," she asked suddenly. "You didn't make that, did you?"
"Of course, no."
"Oh." She felt an inexplicable sense of relief.
Tyler drizzled vinaigrette into the salad bowl and glanced up at her.
"You don't eat spicy food?"
"I can," she said, pausing. "But I don't want to."
"Ever since you were a kid?"
Ellie turned her head away, her fingertips lightly tracing the countertop.
"Mom would scold me."
Tyler's lips curved into a faint smile.
"Mom would scold me..." he teased.
"Stop mimicking me!" Her voice rose.
He chuckled.