"Sophia, you finally woke up! You scared your mother to death!" Diaz's mother cried as she spoke, her hand gently caressing Sophia's pale and cool face. "Does it still hurt? Is there anywhere else that feels uncomfortable?"
Sophia shook her head. At first, she didn't feel anything, but when she moved, she realized her chest did hurt a little. An oxygen tube was inserted in her nose, and she found it hard to speak.
"Mom, am I… back home?"
Diaz's mother was so choked with tears that she couldn't reply, and Alexander Diaz, standing nearby, answered, "Yes, you're home now, safe! Don't worry, just rest well, and once you heal, everything will be fine!"
"Boss… how did I get hurt?"
"A shrapnel hit your chest and injured your lung lobe. Fortunately, the issue isn't very serious. The surgery was successful, and you're okay now! You just lost a lot of blood, so you need to recuperate!"
At these words, Sophia suddenly tried to sit up, which pulled at her injury and made her gasp in pain.
Ignoring the pain, she anxiously asked, "What about him? How is he?"
Diaz's mother quickly supported her, "Calm down, dear, take your time! Don't strain your wound!"
"Who? Who are you asking about?" The people beside her by the hospital bed were somewhat at a loss, unsure who she was referring to.
"You were hit by shrapnel, and when we found you, you were all alone! I had just arrived on the island and took you straight to the hospital, so I didn't find any other injured people. Sophia, who are you asking about?"
Sophia looked at Boss Alexander Diaz with confusion. Her mind was filled with images, but they didn't connect.
"I don't remember… that day, I can't remember… how could this happen?"
She clearly remembered everything from the moment she went missing, but she had forgotten everything that happened on the day she got injured. Her memory only went as far back as when Diana woke her up to see Capone; what happened in between was completely blank!
"It's okay!" Alexander Diaz comforted her. "The doctor said you were very traumatized, and since you lost a lot of blood from your serious injury, it's normal to have temporary gaps in your consciousness! Don't put too much pressure on yourself; just rest for a while, and you'll be fine, okay?"
But Sophia didn't feel that optimistic. She sensed that those lost fragments contained very important information.
The traitor was Cronus. He had been plotting this day for a long time, and now Capone had fallen into his hands. Their grievances were now completely out in the open. Cronus's rage-fueled beating would surely leave Capone severely injured.
What exactly happened later? Why couldn't she remember?
Seeing his sister in such pain, Alexander Diaz felt both helpless and heartbroken. He discussed with their mother and decided to leave Fiona to take care of her.
The two women had always had a close relationship, and there were some topics that would be easier for them to discuss, perhaps helping Sophia open up about her feelings.
Fortunately, Sophia was still quite weak after her injury and could hardly speak, drifting back to sleep. However, her worries were clearly etched on her face.
On the fifth day, Sophia finally began to recover from her physical pain and was able to speak. She grabbed Fiona's hand and asked, "Fiona, can you tell me what Boss and the others have been up to lately? Has Capone contacted them? Has he asked about me?"
Fiona couldn't answer and could only comfort her to relax. Sophia's eyes dimmed, feeling as if a large ball of cotton was stuffed in her heart.
Recently, everyone had been acting like this, always hesitating to say anything, as if afraid she would be hurt. The name Capone felt like a forbidden topic that no one dared to mention in front of her.
Little did they know, her greatest worry was actually about him. She couldn't remember what happened on the day of the injury, but she felt vaguely that something very important was left unfinished.
It felt like he was waiting for her somewhere, but where that place was, and how he was doing, she couldn't recall at all. The harder she tried to think, the more the blankness expanded, and her head throbbed painfully.
They all said she was too anxious and urged her to try to forget what happened in the past six months. But how could she forget?
Those memories were so deeply etched in her mind that she couldn't possibly forget!
After a few days of feeling down, Sophia's injuries had mostly healed. On the day before her discharge, a special visitor arrived at her hospital room.
She had just woken up from a nap and felt a bit thirsty. As she reached for the water on the table next to her, a cup was suddenly placed in her hand.
"Thank you!"
The words slipped out before she realized who was sitting there in the backlight, illuminated by the warm afternoon sun like a figure framed in soft golden light, quietly watching over her as if he had always been there, never having left.
"Roger?"
Calling out that name—two simple syllables she had turned over in her heart countless times—felt strangely unfamiliar to Sophia.
She should have felt nervous and shy. If this encounter had happened over a hundred days ago, she would have been preoccupied with her appearance, worrying about whether her hair was tidy, if her outfit was appropriate, or if her smile was charming.
But now, upon seeing him again, she felt a mix of strangeness and a slight sense of absurdity, with no other emotions emerging.
The calmness was unexpectedly disconcerting, leaving her feeling more confused than ever.
She thought of another man, someone she genuinely cared about and worried for. Compared to him, it seemed that his presence had truly embedded itself in her heart; his name felt etched into her very bones.
She didn't need to think twice; he was right there, occasionally causing a slight pang in her heart.
"Why are you here? Did you come to see me?"
"Yeah, I heard you were injured, so I came to check on you! The past few days, you were mostly asleep, and I didn't want to disturb you, so I just waited at the door for a while and then left!"
Roger's voice was a bit cold, like the meltwater of early spring, pure yet tinged with a hint of sharpness, unlike Capone's deep, resonant tone.
"I'm fine now; I can be discharged tomorrow! Thank you for coming to see me. How's business at the store?" Sophia felt a bit unsure of what to say. His pastry shop had been where she worked, and it was something she had always thought about.
"With a creative and skilled helper missing, it's naturally not as good as before!"
Sophia smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. "If you praise me like this, I'll get embarrassed!"
Not just embarrassed; she felt utterly flattered and somewhat unaccustomed to it. Roger had once been so strict with her, like a mentor who was disappointed she hadn't lived up to his expectations. Even if she performed well, his most generous comment would be a lukewarm, "Well, that's acceptable!"
She had worked hard, seemingly just to earn his approval, but now hearing him praise her left her feeling calm, with no ripples of emotion at all.
What was wrong with her?
Noticing she was lost in thought, Roger straightforwardly said, "Sophia, once you recover, would you be interested in coming back to help me? I... really need you!"
It was a double entendre, but Sophia pretended not to understand. She tilted her head and thought for a moment, exaggeratedly rubbing her chest and coughing, "I'm just a sickly person right now. Who knows when I'll recover and get back to work? Even when I do, I can't work overtime or face the boss's wrath and customers' complaints. What if I can't even deliver takeout? If I run into some lecherous old man trying to take advantage of me, I won't even be able to run away!"
This wasn't entirely a joke; she had indeed encountered such customers before—a Taiwanese old man who came to the shop and then called to order an indecently styled cake, even specifying that she deliver it, hoping to take advantage of her. She was furious and complained to Roger, who, instead of comforting her, criticized her for not being adaptable and offending customers.
At that time, she had felt wronged and on the verge of tears, but now that she thought about it, it seemed a bit like she was trying to act cute.
Unexpectedly, after hearing her, Roger replied calmly, "No problem. As long as you're willing to come back to work, I'll agree to everything you just said!"
Sophia looked at him in surprise. Seeing that he was serious, she paused for a moment before smiling, "You don't need to do that. I don't need anyone's pity! I'm not missing any arms or legs. Once I'm better, I'll go back to work. It's just…"
"I understand!" Roger interrupted her. "I sincerely hope you can come back to my shop. I've been waiting for you to return, really!"
Sophia couldn't find the words to respond; she forgot to refuse and didn't wholeheartedly agree either.
She just sensed that this time she returned, it seemed that everyone, including herself, had changed a bit.
Fortunately, back at home, everything felt as it had before she left.