Chapter 257: Discharge from the Hospital

(Sophia POV)

On the day I was discharged, Midland was blessed with rare sunny weather.

Mom arrived at the hospital early in the morning, bringing three outfits for me to choose from. I picked a beige knit sweater with dark pants—simple and neat.

Noah was at the end of the hallway going over security routes with Robinson, his voice kept low. Dad stood by the window on a phone call. After hanging up, he walked over, looked at me, and smiled.

"You've lost weight."

My hands paused while buttoning up. I looked up and met his gaze. I still wasn't used to this kind of attention. Not scrutiny, not inspection—just a father looking at his daughter, with concern. That look was gentle, but when it landed, it felt like a blanket draped over my shoulders. Not heavy, but warm.

"Now that you're out, eat well and don't overwork yourself," he said.

I nodded. He wasn't much of a talker—always speaking in short sentences—but every word landed firmly, just like him. Steady, grounded.

Mom came over from the side, took my hand, and looked me up and down, her mouth never stopping.

"Too thin, I can wrap my hand around your wrist. When we get back, I'll have the kitchen make you soup. Tell the staff whatever you want to eat, don't hold back."

She squeezed my fingers, then turned my hand over to look at my palm, like she was touching something precious that had been lost and found.

"And clothes—you've been wearing hospital gowns all this time. Your closet definitely doesn't have enough. I saw the walk-in closet at your new place, it's more than half empty. We need to fill it up."

I opened my mouth to say it wasn't necessary. She had already pulled up her phone's photo album, scrolling through screenshots.

"I looked at several stores last night. There's a foreign brand with a knitwear line that's perfect for you, and another place that does custom coats—the fabric is so soft, you'd love how it feels."

I stared at the screen full of shopping screenshots, not knowing what to say.

No one had bought me clothes in over twenty years. As a kid at the orphanage, I wore donated hand-me-downs. When they got too small, I kept wearing them. When they tore, I patched them up and kept going.

In college, I lived on scholarships, counting every penny. Buying a new piece of clothing meant calculating in my head for a long time.

After marrying into the Cooper family, Emily never offered to get me anything, and I was too embarrassed to ask.

Now suddenly someone was pulling me along saying "buy whatever you want," and I didn't know how to respond. It wasn't that I didn't want things—I just wasn't used to being given to.

"Mom, you don't need to buy so much. I usually dress pretty simply."

"Simple is fine, but you need a few decent pieces." Her tone left no room for argument. "You're the Brooks family's daughter. You can't be too casual when you go out."

I fell silent for a moment. Not because of how she said it, but because when she said "you're the Brooks family's daughter," there was light in her eyes.

That light wasn't pride—it was compensation. She'd missed twenty years of buying me clothes and wanted to make up for all of it. But you can't make up for what's lost. She knew it, and so did I. But she still wanted to try.

I was about to decline again when Chloe's voice came from the doorway.

"Auntie! Leave the clothes shopping to me! I'm a professional!"

Chloe stood at the door holding a bag of oranges, her eyes bright like light bulbs. Mom turned to look at her and smiled.

"Chloe's here, perfect timing. Help me figure this out."

"No problem!" Chloe plopped down next to me and pulled out her phone to scroll through the mall directory.

"I know a great boutique that just got their fall-winter collection, and there's a designer brand—minimalist style, perfect for Sophia."

Mom and Chloe chatted enthusiastically, going from fabrics to cuts, from cuts to color coordination.

I didn't interrupt. I leaned against the headboard, watching them.

Chloe gestured animatedly when describing clothes, Mom scrolled seriously through her phone screenshots. Watching them together suddenly reminded me of childhood—when other kids at the orphanage got adopted, their new families would pick out new clothes for them, plan what they'd wear tomorrow. I'd sit in the corner watching, thinking, when will someone pick out clothes for me? Not hand-me-downs, but new ones, bought just for me.

Now I had that.

"Alright, you two go this afternoon. I'll pay." Mom made the decision on the spot.

I looked at her. "Mom, aren't you coming with us?"

She froze. So did Chloe.

I knew why they froze. I wasn't someone who actively asked for company.

The first lesson I learned at the orphanage was not to trouble others, not to expect anything from others, not to say "come with me" to anyone. But she was my mom. Not someone else.

"You waited for me for twenty years. I don't want you to always be waiting at home." My voice was soft but serious. "Will you come with me?"

Her eyes immediately welled up. She opened her mouth, and after a long pause, managed one word: "Okay."

But I wasn't finished. I looked at her face—the dark circles under her eyes that no concealer could hide.

"But—you didn't sleep well last night, did you? The dark circles under your eyes show right through the concealer."

She instinctively touched under her eyes. I didn't ask why she hadn't slept well. I knew. She was afraid that after I was discharged, I'd disappear again.

Not afraid I'd get lost—afraid that this twenty-year dream would end. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw my face. Every time she opened them, I wasn't there.

I stood up and pressed her back into the chair.

"You rest at home today. When I get back, I'll model everything I bought for you, piece by piece."

She was about to object when I added: "Mom, if you don't rest, I'm not going either."

That shut her up. She looked into my eyes, her lips moving several times, like she was holding something back. Finally she sniffled and smiled.

"Okay, I'll listen to you."

Chloe watched this scene from the side, her eyes getting a bit red too. She turned away, pretending to look at her phone.

I knew she probably felt all soft and emotional inside.

She'd known me for ten years and knew what kind of person I was. I wasn't someone who just accepted others' kindness. I was used to taking care of others—even just out of the hospital, my first thought was still worrying about my mom.

Two o'clock in the afternoon. Chloe waited in the mall's first-floor lobby, having arrived ten minutes early on purpose.

Since Mom was resting at home as I'd told her and couldn't come with me, Noah said he would. His exact words were: "Fiona just got out of the hospital, someone needs to be with her. I don't have meetings this afternoon anyway."

Chloe checked her appearance countless times in the reflection of the mall's glass doors. Lipstick intact, hair perfect, earrings newly bought, even her nails freshly painted.

I stood beside her, watching her fingers unconsciously twist the hem of her skirt.

She was nervous. Last time she fell asleep in front of him, this time she wanted to make a better impression somewhere else.

She wanted him to see a different side of her—not the one who slept through meetings, but the one with good taste in clothes.

I was about to say something when the mall doors opened.

Noah walked in. White shirt, dark jacket, quick stride—he still had that "I just came from a board meeting" look about him.

Chloe was about to greet him when her body froze.

Behind Noah was someone else.

Robinson.

Chloe's smile stuck on her face. I stepped out from behind Noah, saw her expression, and coughed quietly without saying anything.

"Let's go." Noah glanced at his watch. "I need to be back by 3:30 for a meeting. Let's make this quick."

Chloe walked beside me, her steps a bit heavy.

Her heels hit the floor tiles harder than usual.

She'd probably imagined it like this—her and Noah on either side of me while shopping, she could chat with him casually while trying on clothes, relaxed and natural, not as awkward as at the hospital. Reality was this: I walked in the middle, Chloe on the left, Noah on the right, Robinson behind us. Four people in a line, like we were on patrol.

We entered a boutique on the third floor. Chloe helped me pick out a few coats, and I went into the fitting room. The moment the fitting room door closed, I saw her turn toward Noah's direction.

But what I heard from inside the fitting room was Robinson's voice. He and Noah were quietly discussing the afternoon's security arrangements. All routes and emergency plans, not a single word about her.

I put on a camel coat and pushed open the fitting room door. Chloe stood by the clothing rack, her fingers absently flipping through hanging clothes, eyes fixed on the floor.

She was waiting. Waiting for him to say something. About the clothes, about her, about anything besides work. But he said nothing.

"Does it look good?" I asked.

Chloe looked up. "Looks good."

Noah also glanced over and nodded. "This one works. The color suits Fiona."

Then he turned to Robinson and continued their previous conversation.

Chloe didn't turn around again. She picked up another coat from the rack and handed it to me. "Try this one too."

I took the clothes and looked at her. Her lips were pressed together, the smile still there but not reaching her eyes. That kind of smile was for others to see, not for herself.

I tried on seven pieces and ended up choosing four.

At checkout, Noah handed over a black card, the motion as natural as swiping a subway card.

Chloe stood to the side holding shopping bags. The bags were light, but her shoulders sagged a little. Not from weight, but because she realized that in his world, she hadn't found a place yet.

Walking out of the store, I moved beside her and said quietly.

"You're not in a great mood today?"

She shook her head. "No, it's just—"

She glanced back. Robinson walked behind Noah, the two of them side by side, steps synchronized, in sync like partners. She looked away, her voice dropping to barely a whisper, as if afraid the people ahead might hear.

"Sophia, does your brother take him everywhere?"