Chapter 93 Recovery from Illness

Chapter 93 Recovery from Illness

Meeting Nicholas's sincere gaze, something deep inside me couldn't help but soften.

In my mind's eye, two tiny versions of me suddenly appeared—one in black, one in white.

The black one spoke with firm resolve. "Don't go soft! Have you forgotten? The Harrington family, Nicholas—they're your enemies!"

The white one poked her fingers together in protest. "But they didn't do it on purpose. No one expected that accident to happen. Besides, Nicholas has been so good to you, hasn't he?"

I closed my eyes, irritably swatting them both away. But the battle in my head didn't stop.

The conflict had always been there. I couldn't balance it, so I instinctively chose to avoid the issue once again.

I smiled awkwardly, subtly avoiding his gaze. "Let's wait until the next holiday. If I don't have other plans then, visiting your family would be an honor. I'd be more than happy to."

I phrased it diplomatically. But stripped of the politeness, it basically meant: I'll see how I feel, I'll go if I can, but no promises.

Dig even deeper and it was just a rejection.

How could someone as perceptive as Nicholas not understand?

From the corner of my eye, I caught his lips gradually pressing downward. His brow tightened, his lashes trembling slightly.

The atmosphere in the hospital room grew oppressive along with Nicholas's sinking mood.

I pretended not to notice. But how could someone as sensitive as me not see it?

After all, in my past life, I'd honed my ability to read people's moods to perfection—all in my desperate attempts to please my four brothers and win their affection.

But now, I could only feign indifference.

When people feel guilty, they suddenly get busy. Like right now—I started flipping through my medical records page by page. After finishing, I began organizing my bedside table, muttering to myself about what medication schedule to follow after discharge.

I was busy, though I had no idea with what exactly.

I kept my back to Nicholas the whole time. Even so, I could still feel that burning gaze from behind.

He seemed to really want me to do something. Maybe he wanted a definitive answer. Or maybe he hoped I'd make it up to him some other way.

Nothing. I gave him nothing. I didn't want to.

Nicholas seemed to understand my meaning. With a bitter laugh, he made an excuse and left.

The atmosphere between us always turned awkward so suddenly. Just like last time, when neither of us would say what we were really thinking. And now this time—I didn't dare ask about the truth from back then, and Nicholas didn't demand any emotional validation from me.

He and I were like two straight lines that occasionally intersected, only to separate again at some point.

During my quiet recovery days in the hospital, I organized everything that had happened since my rebirth.

Nicholas's visits became much less frequent. Instead, Samuel started coming by whenever he didn't have class. We gradually grew closer.

On Thanksgiving Day, I accepted Samuel's invitation. He disliked the Brown family, and I had no family at all.

After dinner, on our way to the movie theater together, I suddenly received a holiday greeting from Nicholas.

I casually replied "same to you" and shoved my phone back in my pocket without giving it another thought.

That night, I had no idea that Nicholas had carefully composed that greeting, originally planning to have a real conversation with me. After receiving my dismissive response, he silently deleted the long paragraphs he'd typed out.

Two weeks after the holiday, my body met the discharge standards. By then I'd been on medical leave for a month.

In my past life, Sabrina had stolen my internship opportunity at DI, and I'd spent most of my remaining days in hospitals. My work experience was basically zero.

I felt apprehensive, worried I might get fired. I messaged Blake first to ask how to handle it, then returned to my desk on Monday with my heart in my throat.

When my coworkers saw me, they all gathered around asking how I was doing. After some polite exchanges, everyone dispersed.

After checking in with my direct supervisor, I resumed working according to my previous routine.

At ten in the morning, I received a new email.

[Design Department, Catherine. Welcome back to work. Regarding your work arrangements, upper management has a new deployment plan. Please arrive at Conference Room 03 within 15 minutes for discussion.]

The sender was HR. I didn't dare delay—I gathered my things and headed over immediately.

HR meetings weren't unusual. They handled all the company's rules, orders, and personnel assignments, big and small. They were just following protocol, conveying management's decisions.

After friendly greetings, the conversation got down to business.

"Catherine, given your outstanding performance in the probation assessment competition, after extensive deliberation, first—welcome to officially becoming a member of DI."

I stood and shook her hand with a smile. "I'm honored."

"Second, we'll be honoring our promise. In addition to your permanent position, you're receiving a promotion. We're officially appointing you as Team Leader of Design Department Group Eight."

My smile widened. I accepted the appointment letter with both hands.

DI was an internationally renowned company with a strict, standardized management system from top to bottom. The lower levels could accommodate connections, but promotions required comprehensive evaluation and real ability to back it up.

Otherwise, Blake wouldn't have so much authority as director.

The HR manager pulled out another document and handed it to me. "This is the second matter we called you in for today. This document contains the project contract between DI and Mr. Harrington."

At this, she gave me a meaningful look. "Mr. Harrington specifically requested you to take over this project. This is our first collaboration with them. Don't let the company down."

The document suddenly felt incredibly heavy in my hands. My expression grew more serious.

Nicholas and I had been in a weird place lately, but he was still secretly supporting me at work. I hadn't expected that.

But the work pressure and psychological pressure that came with it felt like two mountains crushing down on me.

I gritted my teeth and accepted the project. Back at my desk, I started reviewing the stack of documents I'd received one by one.

According to the attachment to my appointment letter, the two other members assigned to my team were employees who'd joined the company a year before me.

Wendy and Oliver.

Their brief profiles were attached. I skimmed through them, my instincts telling me these two wouldn't be simple.

They had solid professional abilities, yet they'd been placed under a newbie. They definitely wouldn't be happy about it. But what kind of people they really were—I'd have to meet them to find out.

Using the contact information in the documents, I sent both of them emails, asking them to meet me in Conference Room 06, which was currently available.

Five minutes past the agreed time, neither had shown up.

I sighed helplessly. Was this the veterans' way of warning me?

I sent another email to follow up and waited personally by the door. Ten minutes later, still no one had come.

My patience exhausted, I went directly to their work area and called out loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Wendy? Oliver? I'm Catherine, your team leader."