The first ray of sunlight streamed into the ward, and Amelia Clarke slowly woke up.
The injury on her head was barely painful; she should be able to leave the hospital after today.
Sitting up, she noticed Owen Moreland wasn't in the room. Thinking back to yesterday's embarrassment, she sighed in relief. Thank goodness he wasn't there, or she would not have known how to face him.
She got out of bed and went to the bathroom to wash up.
While brushing her teeth, she saw her pale yellow cartoon underwear hanging on the rack through the mirror and thought to herself that it should be dry after hanging all night in the warm room, right?
Just as she was about to look away, her tooth-brushing motion froze, and then two blushes crept up her cheeks.
The underwear hanging out in the open—didn't Owen Moreland see it when he came to the bathroom to wash up last night?
Cripes! Such a private item exposed to a man she was not very familiar with made Amelia feel utterly embarrassed.
After washing up, the first thing she did was stuff the underwear into the bag with her clothes.
The clean underwear she had on was what she had asked Dorothy Brown to buy for her yesterday morning.
Standing in front of the cabinet and touching her hot cheeks, she felt a bit annoyed.
After a while, she checked the time on her phone; it was already half-past seven.
It was Monday today, and she had many classes.
She made a phone call to the class teacher and asked for leave under the pretext of an 'injury'. Since she was a good student who was never late, never left early, and never skipped class, the class teacher didn't suspect anything and granted her two days of sick leave.
Amelia had not told Viola Harris about her injury; one reason was that she didn't want her to worry, and secondly, she didn't want the people in the dorm to know about her… uh, relationship with Owen Moreland—although there really wasn't any relationship between them.
So, she made a phone call to Viola, claiming she had some family matters to attend to and had gone home, and would be back in a couple of days, asking her not to worry.
After hanging up the phone and putting away her mobile, Amelia took her bag, ready to go out for breakfast.
Just as she opened the ward door, a woman dressed in a professional suit skirt approached her. She glanced at the room number, then back at Amelia, and spoke in a very professional tone, "Excuse me, are you Miss Carter?"
Amelia nodded: "That's me, who are you?"
"Hello, Miss Carter. My name is Isabella Mitchell. I'm the Chief Secretary of the Bowe Group. Following Mr. Moreland's instructions, I have come to bring you breakfast. Please enjoy."
Isabella raised her hand and offered the packed breakfast to Amelia. Her gaze was very professional, with the right amount of courteous smile, not showing any emotions, no probing, nor curiosity.
Amelia had not expected Owen Moreland to send his secretary to buy her breakfast. She was surprised inside but did not show it outwardly. She graciously took the packaged box from Isabella and smiled in thanks, "Thank you, Chief Secretary Mitchell."
Isabella gave a professional smile and said, "You're welcome. I'll be on my way now, Miss Carter. Goodbye." After saying that, she gave a nod and gracefully walked away in her ten-centimeter heels.
Amelia watched Isabella's retreating figure, possessing the powerful aura of a professional working woman with exceptionally good professional qualities.
She had once dreamed that after graduation, she would become a professional woman like Isabella—independent, strong, active, and confident.
After eating breakfast and feeling somewhat bored, Amelia sat on the bed and read a fashion magazine. She was studying fashion design, so staying informed about current trends was critical.
When Ann Chapman came for the rounds, Amelia asked her if she could be discharged tomorrow.
Ann replied, "A microwave isn't light. If it had hit you accurately, we really wouldn't be certain what state your little head would be in now. Fortunately, the assailant's hand trembled, and the blow was off-target, merely breaking some skin. If you're eager to be discharged, you can leave tomorrow."
"When can I get the stitches removed?" Amelia asked, as she had several stitches on her head.
Ann laughed, "Nowadays, we use absorbable sutures, so there's no need for stitch removal. After you go back, avoid spicy and stimulating food and seafood, and don't wash your hair just yet. Wait a week or so before doing so. The sutures will be absorbed by your body in about half a month, and anything that isn't will fall off on its own."
Amelia nodded and thanked her.
Ann said, "You rest well. If you need anything, just call me."
After Ann left, Amelia couldn't help but scratch her hair. It had been two or three days without washing, and her hair was already feeling unrefreshed. Fortunately, it was winter; had it been summer with the sweat, it would have been even more uncomfortable.
All day, the ward was almost always empty, except for the nurses' routine checks, injections, and Chief Secretary Mitchell bringing her meals.
Mia Taylor had made several phone calls, all of which were essentially to ask her to go to the police station to clarify that Ciara Taylor had not committed any violence.
After washing up in the evening, she received a text message from an unknown number.
——Dorothy Brown will be back at nine o'clock in the evening, don't be scared.
There was no remark or signature, but Amelia Clarke recognized at a glance that the message was from Owen Moreland.
Thinking about those awkward incidents, even through the screen, she couldn't help feeling embarrassed.
But how did he get her number?
Don't be scared?
Amelia Clarke looked at those three words, pursing her lips.
When she was little, abandoned by her father, and with her mother falling ill, she was so young and had lost the sense of security that her parents provided, she was naturally scared. Yet back then, and even up to this day, nobody had ever asked if she was scared? No one had ever comforted her with the words: "Don't be scared."
She suddenly understood why Owen Moreland insisted on staying with her last night. It was clear that she could take care of herself, and it wouldn't have mattered if no one was with her.
He must have been worried that she was scared.
Amelia Clarke put down her phone, hugged her knees, and sat on the bed. The VIP ward of Capital Harmony Hospital was on the top floor of the hospital building, and from the window, she could see the vast night view of Capital City, with thousands of lights shining brightly and beautifully.
The honking of the traffic on the road below faintly entered the room bringing a bit of noise, which made the silence of the ward seem even more pronounced.
Amelia Clarke sat quietly, listening and watching, her figure slender and lonely.
Suddenly, her phone rang.
Her train of thought was interrupted, and she glanced at the mobile phone beside her, 'Gabriel Nelson' blinked on the screen.
Amelia Clarke didn't want to answer.
The ringtone was persistent.
Eventually, she answered the call.
The person on the other end didn't speak immediately, and Amelia Clarke also remained silent. After a standoff, Gabriel Nelson's low and somewhat hoarse voice began, "Amelia, how have you been lately?"
Instantly, Amelia Clarke felt as if her chest was clogged with cotton.
Over the past ten years, aside from Isaac Taylor, who had given her support, there was another person who had done the same.
That person was Gabriel Nelson.
He was six years older than her, he had protected her brother with her, taken care of her mother with her, and he always thought about her, initially as a big brother, and later on, as a boyfriend.
They started dating when she was seventeen. He never rushed her, and the most intimate thing they ever did was him holding her hand tightly.
He said he loved her, he said he would wait for her to grow up.
But he didn't wait for her to grow up; he turned around and married someone else.
Amelia Clarke said, "I'm very well," her voice flat and distant.
Another silence ensued.
After a long while, Gabriel Nelson said, "Amelia, I miss you a lot."
Amelia Clarke chuckled, "Save those words for your wife and children, goodbye."
She hung up the phone, unceremoniously.
Some people, some things, they become history the moment they turn away.