Chapter 2

With that, she stepped close to the edge of the bed and carefully helped me to my feet.

She handled the entire discharge process on her own, running from desk to desk to sort out the paperwork and medications.

Even though I couldn't see a thing, I could feel her unwavering care in every gentle touch and reassuring word. For the first time in over ten years, I felt the comforting warmth of family.

I gave her my address, and she guided me back to the small apartment I owned in the city. It wasn't large—just a modest one-bedroom.

"Clara, I'm really sorry... Everything happened so suddenly, the place is probably a mess."

She chuckled softly. "Don't you worry about that. I'm here to clean up and take care of things. Your only job right now is to rest and heal."

I nodded quietly. I wanted to say thank you, but the words caught in my throat, tangled in an overwhelming wave of emotion.

After helping me sit down on the edge of the bed, she immediately set to work tidying up the apartment.

As she moved around, she asked about the details of the crash, and I gave her the broad strokes.

When she heard that the driver had fled the scene and was still out there, she let out a string of furious curses, thoroughly chewing the coward out on my behalf.

Her presence breathed an immediate, vibrant warmth into the cold, silent apartment.

By evening, the rich aroma of a home-cooked meal filled the air. She guided me over to the small dining table. I wanted to feed myself, desperate to retain some dignity, but without my sight, I couldn't even manage to spear the food with my fork.

Noticing my struggle, she immediately took the utensils from my hands and began feeding me, bite by patient bite.

Inside, I was drowning in gratitude.

Only after I had finished every last bite did she finally sit down to eat her own dinner.

"We're just keeping it simple tonight," she said between bites. "On the way up, I saw a grocery market down on the corner. Tomorrow, I'll go buy some good ingredients and make you some hearty bone broth to help you heal."

I nodded, reaching into my pocket to pull out my debit card.

"Here, Clara. There's still a bit of cash left in this account. Please use it for groceries and expenses while you're here. You've already done so much for me."

The moment she realized what it was, she pushed the card firmly back into my hand.

"Leo, what is this supposed to be?" she chided, her tone stern yet caring. "Taking care of you is the least I can do. We're in the same boat, aren't we? In this whole wide world, you're the only family I have left, too. If you keep treating me like a stranger, I'm going to get upset."

I offered a helpless, wry smile. Seeing that she refused to take it as payment, I tried another angle.

"No, Clara, listen to me. It's bad enough that you dropped everything to come look after me—I can't let you spend your own money feeding me. Just keep the card. Whatever groceries or household supplies we need, swipe this. If you don't take it, I won't be able to sleep at night."

She hesitated for a moment before finally letting out a soft sigh.

"Alright, fine. I'll hold onto it for groceries, but I'm keeping track of every penny to tell you later."

"Deal," I smiled.

Night quickly fell. After fumbling my way through washing up, a very practical and awkward reality stared us in the face.

Due to my limited budget when I bought the place, and because I had only ever planned on living alone, the apartment had just one bedroom.

There wasn't a guest bed. And I certainly couldn't make a guest—especially my cousin's widow—sleep on the living room couch.

Clara seemed to pick up on my awkward hesitation. "Leo, what's wrong? Come on, let me help you into bed."

I quickly blurted out, "Clara, why don't you take the bedroom? I'll take the couch."

To convince her, I hurriedly added, "Seriously, don't worry about it. When I was living alone, I used to crash on the couch all the time."

"Absolutely not!" she countered without missing a beat. "You're the patient here. The doctor said you need proper, deep rest to heal your nerves. How could I possibly let you sleep on the couch? Get into that bedroom right now."

"I'm totally fine anywhere," she continued warmly. "That couch is plenty comfortable. It's way softer than the firm mattress I have back home in the country."

I tried to protest, but she had already taken me by the arm, gently but firmly steering me toward the bedroom.

She practically tugged me all the way to the mattress, helped me sit down, told me to get a good night's rest, and quickly stepped out, pulling the door shut behind her.

In the end, I had no choice but to surrender to her stubborn kindness.

Lying in bed enveloped in absolute darkness, my mind became hyperactive.

Thoughts swirled endlessly—memories of my childhood with my parents, the lonely years in the city, the sudden crash, and where my life was headed now.

I didn't know how much time had passed before exhaustion finally pulled me under.

Sometime later, a parched, burning thirst jolted me awake.

Without my sight, I had no concept of time; I had no idea whether it was the dead of night or broad daylight. I wanted to call out for Clara, but the fear of waking her if it was late stopped me.

Deciding to manage on my own, I slid out of bed and cautiously felt my way toward the door.