"..." Charlotte Smith was silent for a while, then somewhat humbly said to Daisy Ginger, "Miss Ginger, if you hate me, wait until you’re feeling better and you can hit me, but please don’t harm yourself."
Daisy Ginger was amused by her again.
She opened her eyes and looked at her, "Do you really think I don’t dare lay a hand on you anymore?"
Charlotte lowered her eyes, still with that gentle demeanor, speaking softly: "As long as it helps you to calm down."
Daisy Ginger stared at her, clenched her hands, her wound tight, sending a sharp pain through.
Her face turned pale, which Charlotte noticed, instinctively lifting her blanket, grabbing her wrist, and urgently said: "Miss Ginger, I was wrong, the wound just got stitched up, don’t strain, it’ll tear the stitches!"
Touched by her, Daisy felt half-dead with disgust, swatted her away, and shouted at her, unable to bear it any longer: "Get out! Don’t pretend to care for me! Are you out of your mind?"
Charlotte dared not confront her head-on, loosening her grip in her direction, backing off a few steps, somewhat helplessly pursing her lips, looking at Daisy Ginger.
Daisy Ginger was like a trapped beast driven to the extreme, breathing heavily, eyes blood-red, lifting her small face, glaring at her with hatred.
She sat alone on the bed, the wide hospital gown pulled open at the collar, her shoulder exposed for over half a month, her bare skin pale under the white paper lamp.
Charlotte moved her lips, wanting to tell her to put on her clothes properly, not to catch cool, but feared to further provoke her on-the-edge nerves.
"Don’t bother me anymore." Daisy Ginger curled up, burying her face in her knees, asking somewhat despairingly, "What more do you want? If you really had any pity for me, you wouldn’t have changed my medication back then. Don’t pretend in front of me anymore, go beg for mercy from your master and wag your tail, you play pitiful in front of me and still want me to give you sympathy, aren’t you demanding too much?"
"You never really considered me as anything." She ignored her further, just turned away, no longer looking at her, "Don’t pretend to care about me in front of me, it really disgusts me to see it."
"..." Having said this much, staying any longer is pointless.
Charlotte didn’t speak further, just kept her head down, turned, and left the room.
She was merely following orders, not really friends with Daisy Ginger, care and sympathy were only because Edward Stephens ordered her to take care of her.
Daisy Ginger saw their relationship clearly.
Once out the door, the man leaning against the wall not far away, smoking, lifted his gaze over.
"Second young master."
Charlotte walked over, her voice somewhat hoarse.
"Miss Ginger doesn’t want to see me." She hesitated to say.
Edward Stephens glanced at her, nodded, calmly extinguished the cigarette butt in his hand, and looked at Charlotte Smith.
"You can go back." His voice was calm as he threw the cigarette butt into the garbage can, "I’ll go see her."
Charlotte replied, then softly advised, "Second young master, Miss Ginger is very emotional now, be careful not to get hurt."
Edward Stephens didn’t react much, had already opened the door, and entered the hospital room.
Charlotte pursed her lips, slowly withdrew her gaze, stood alone by the window for a while, until the faint smell of smoke in the air dispersed, then she stepped towards the elevator.