Chapter 122 In her dream, when Jason whipped her in the family hall, he hadn't held back. The pain was unbearable, sharp enough that she thought she might die. She thought of her father, her mother, and of Julian. It felt like she was begging him again-not to leave her behind. He seemed to be saying something, explaining something, but before she could hear it clearly, the shrill ring of her phone dragged her back to reality. Her lashes and clothes were damp with sweat.
She blinked at the caller ID in a daze before answering, "Hello?" The moment she spoke, she realized her throat was raw, hoarse to the point of pain, burning as if on fire. On the other end came a warm, kindly voice. "Dr. Wilson! I'm Agatha! Do you remember me? Agatha Norwood. I once saw you at the clinic." "I remember. Did something happen?" Sydney asked. "Oh my, what's wrong with your voice? Are you sick?" Agatha's worry was immediate. Sydney sniffled, her nose heavy. "Yeah, I caught a bit of a chill. Did you call because you're unwell?" "No, no." Agatha chuckled cheerfully.
"I was making some muffins and wanted to ask what flavors you like. I booked an appointment with you in a couple of days and thought I could bring some along." Agatha's gentle tone warmed Sydney's heart. She smiled faintly. "No need. Keep them for yourself.' "You live alone, don't you?" 11 "Yeah." "Then let me come over with some flour and eggs. I'll make them at your place! You're sick, and you don't have the energy to cook properly. I'll prepare some for your freezer. Whenever you're hungry, you can just reheat a few.
11 Sydney didn't know how it happened, but muddled by fever, she found herself giving her address. 'Strange...' she thought. Sydney had always thought of herself as cautious, guarded. Maybe it was because Agatha seemed like an adorable little old lady. Or maybe it was because she so rarely received care like this. That warm, almost familial concern disarmed her completely. Though feverish, Sydney felt lighter. She got up, washed her face, and changed the bandage on her forehead. By the time she finished, Agatha was bustling through the door, arms full of supplies.
"Feeling any better?" Agatha asked, setting the bags down and washing her hands before reaching for Sydney's forehead. "Still a bit of a fever. Go back to bed. I'll call you when the muffins are ready." "I've slept enough. Let me help you make them." Fresh from sleep, Sydney's voice was soft, her whole demeanor gentler than usual. Agatha's heart melted, and she looked at her as though she were her own granddaughter. "All right. Sit and rest on the couch first.
I'll get the dough ready." 1/2 Chapter 122 "Okay." Sydney leaned against the sofa back, watching the old woman busy herself in the kitchen. The bright winter sunlight spilled across Agatha's silver-white hair and down her slightly bent back. For a moment, Sydney did not feel so alone. For a moment, she felt like she had family. She had never made muffins before, but she was smart, copying Agatha's movements. Hers turned out good enough. As they worked, Agatha glanced at the bandage on her head. "What happened? How'd you hurt yourself?" Sydney pressed her lips tight. "Well...
Just bumped it by accident.' Agatha's expression softened with concern as she brushed the wound gently. "Does your family not live in Jouleston?" "I..." Sydney's hands did not stop kneading the dough. "I don't have a family. My parents passed away when I was young." Her grandparents had died even earlier. Agatha's hands stilled. An echo of pain flickered in her eyes. "My grandson's parents died young too. You and he are both pitiful children." She sighed. "He once had a little girl he raised, but when trouble hit the family, he feared dragging her down. Ever since, he's been alone." 2/2