Ever since Grandma Rivers left, the family had hired a nutritionist. Every day, she coordinated the meals for Aunt Whitney to prepare, and the driver delivered them to the hospital.

Worried Cecilia might go hungry, lunch was served before 11. The third young master and Daisen got into another squabble at the door, both squeezing into the hospital room and placing two lunchboxes on the table.

Xavier Foster waved them out, then got up and opened the lunchboxes.

Everything inside was food Cecilia liked.

But before he could eat, Charles Chase called.

"Bro..."

Knowing it was Charles Chase on the other end, Xavier Foster slowed down, listening closely to what Cecilia was saying.

"Mm, did lunch arrive? Are you feeling okay today?"

Cecilia sniffled and replied softly, "It just arrived. I just got up, but I'm fine."

"Bro, is my mom doing any better?"

Yesterday, Charles Chase had said he would visit Ye Jing at the hospital today.

"Yes, she's much better. I just came from the hospital, spoke with the doctors—they say she can go home the day after tomorrow. Her surgery went very well."

He paused, switched the phone to his other hand, and opened the car door, "Do you want me to pick you up tomorrow, then?"

Cecilia hesitated, her gaze unconsciously drifting to the man standing by the table.

Xavier Foster had lost a lot of weight recently. His once-broad shoulders now seemed a bit fragile under the thin hospital gown.

Yet she hadn't seen her mother in days. She really wanted to talk to her, to tell her about the baby, about how these years hadn't actually been that bad, to say how much she missed her.

"Okay, pick me up tomorrow. Thank you, Bro."

She answered Charles Chase and hung up.

Xavier Foster paused for a few seconds when he overheard, a glimmer flickering in his eyes. But after a moment, he straightened the utensils and set them carefully on the table.

Neither said a word for a while, both quietly eating, lost in their own thoughts.

After they finished, the third young master came in to clear everything up, a strange tension lingering in the air.

What was going on? The boss wasn't looking at Madam with that goofy grin like usual. In fact, he looked so grim he could scare someone to death.

He quickly gathered all the lunchboxes, shooting Daisen a look.

Daisen grabbed them in one swoop. Hmph—old three didn't look like much, but his hands were pretty quick.

He hummed a jaunty tune as he washed out the boxes, already thinking about what to pack for Little Mu tomorrow.

A little later, Cecilia Ye slipped out. She returned to her own ward to tidy up, but in truth, she just felt a sudden pang of melancholy.

She dragged a chair to the bedside, sat in the sunlight, and absentmindedly stroked her growing belly, whispering complaints about Xavier Foster to her baby.

Next door, Xavier Foster leaned against the head of the bed. Why rush? He could walk fine now. But Cecilia would be going back to the Chen house soon.

He tapped the edge of the bed, brows furrowed.

How could he convince her to stay with him? It was harder than signing a multi-billion contract.

Sunlight slanted through the tall windows, leaving both of their rooms awash in a daze.

Xavier Foster rubbed his brow. He'd never been someone to hesitate. When he wanted something, he went for it—except with Cecilia.

Suddenly, as if something clicked inside, he shot to his feet and hurried to Cecilia's room.

As he entered, Cecilia sat by the window, sunbathing with her legs curled beneath her. The sunlight warmed her pale face, tinting it like a ripe peach.

"Cecilia," he called gently.

She looked up, watching him approach with his steady, dignified stride. His face was as cold and unapproachable as ever, yet his brow was faintly furrowed, as if carrying a burden.

He squatted before her, half of his face bathed in sunlight. His large hand enveloped her small one. He looked up at her.

"Cecilia, can we talk?"

She stared into his eyes, unable to find the words to refuse—with her hand in his, heat radiating from his palm.

"What... is it you want to say?"

Xavier Foster gave a soft sigh, gently cupping Cecilia's cheek—soft, just like before.

Word by word, his voice was genuine and earnest: "I want to ask if you'll come home. To our home. If you don't want to stay with me, I can take you to Grandpa Rivers and Grandma Rivers's instead."

"I'll just visit you from time to time."

Feeling his gentle touch, Cecilia's heart skipped, suddenly filled with something warm.

She bit her lip; her voice trembled.

"Our...home?"

"Yes. I don't want a divorce. I don't want to be apart from you. Cecilia, I want to take care of you and the baby."

He spoke with such seriousness, with a tenderness he'd never shown before.

"Cecilia, will you give me a chance?"

He pleaded for a chance, laying down all the pride and dignity that belonged to Xavier Foster.

He crouched before her, one knee bent—almost like he was kneeling, as if proposing.

Cecilia tightened her tiny hand, shaking all over, temporarily at a loss for words.

"I'll protect you, every time. I won't let you be sad or hurt, because I love you—not for any other reason, just because I love you."

"I love you, Cecilia."

His eyes reddened. He wasn't used to saying such things, yet these words came naturally, as if he'd rehearsed them time and again in his heart.

"I don't want to be without you. If I could, I would watch you every second, every minute."

He trailed off, his voice growing hoarse.

A tear landed on the back of his hand—Cecilia's tears could no longer be held in. They fell, hot and unstoppable.

She had loved Xavier Foster for so many years, but he had never given her such a solemn, earnest confession.

It was like writing letters to someone without knowing if they had moved, but writing anyway, every day, for years—three, four, many years... Until, at the moment you were about to give up hope, you finally received a reply.

"Xavier Foster, are you...being serious?"

Her voice trembled as she asked, biting her lip, clutching that 'letter' as if she couldn't believe she finally got a reply.

She longed for clear, definite answers—answers to finally fill her sense of insecurity.

"Serious. I've never been this serious before."

Worried she wouldn't believe him, the usually cold and tough man repeated himself.

Tears fell like pearls; Cecilia sniffled.

"Do you really love me?"

Xavier Foster reached to wipe away her tears. His girl was such a little crybaby, her tears never seemed to run out.

"I like you. I love you."

She shook her head in disbelief, her lips trembling, her fingers white as she squeezed them tight.

"If...if you leave me again, I...I..."

She clenched her little fists, trying to muster up a threat but failing.

Xavier Foster, anxious to clarify, spoke up quickly.

"I won't. No matter what, I won't leave you. If I ever let you down again, then may I end up alone for the rest of my life—or drop dead this instant, whatever it takes."

He honestly wasn't sure what words were coming out, only that he didn't want her to see a moment's hesitation, didn't want Cecilia to be scared.

Cecilia shook her head, fresh tears streaming. "I don't want you to die."

They looked into each other's eyes; both saw no one else.

Xavier Foster wiped her tears, his palms and the backs of his hands now soaked.

All those days when he was injured, she'd worried he might die. When he made it out of surgery, she'd worried about his pain. Later yet, she worried he might regret it—regret saving her, regret being hurt so badly for her.

"Don't cry, okay? I can't take it when you cry. It hurts worse than getting shot in the heart."

Cecilia hiccupped, her eyes shining like a sky full of stars—so beautiful he felt like he could place the entire world at her feet.

"Then... why aren't you holding me yet?"

As soon as the words left her lips, he swept her into his familiar embrace. "It's my fault. Our Cecilia wanted a hug all along."