It must have been that argument with Mom the other day that hurt her feelings. And lately I've been so caught up in dating Ned that I've neglected taking care of her. Damn it, I'm awful.
When Sophie returned to the ward, she forced a bright smile onto her face. "Mom, the doctor said you're recovering really well! Soon you won't have to stick to liquid foods anymore, and we can start the follow-up health treatments. That's great news!"
Sarah smiled too when she heard this. "I overheard you talking the other day… about transferring me to the States for treatment." She was a little short of breath. "I don't want to go. Let's just stay in London. The surgery's already done, and I'm doing fine, aren't I? Don't worry!"
"We'll do whatever Dr. William says, okay?" Sophie gently tucked the blanket around her mother, who had already lain back down. "He understands your condition best. If he thinks treatment over there could greatly improve things, then we should go. Deal?"
"There's really no need. Mom doesn't want to go!" Sarah had always been gentle yet quietly stubborn, and right now that stubborn side was showing clearly.
Sophie looked at her mother. Her eyes gradually turned red, tears welled up, and then quietly rolled down, falling onto the blanket. Choking back sobs, she said, "Mom, if treatment in America can prolong your life, I won't give up. Please agree. I need you. Stay with me longer. Don't… don't think about leaving so soon—"
She quickly turned away, struggling to control her emotions.
But her mother, who hadn't slept all night, had already drifted off. Maybe she felt safer with her daughter by her side; or maybe she was simply too weak—she'd been suffering from insomnia for three nights in a row…
A few days later, it was Friday evening. Ned had chosen an elegantly decorated French restaurant.
After the waiter showed them to their table, the manager immediately emerged from the office at the back as soon as he learned Ned was dining there. Clearly the two were well acquainted; Ned seemed to be a regular.
"This place looks really expensive," Sophie whispered once the manager had walked away.
"For Western dining, it's all about the atmosphere. The vibe matters more than anything," Ned said with a small, amused curl of his lips.
"Atmosphere? You can't eat atmosphere," Sophie laughed. "Growing up, all I ever cared about was filling my stomach. Atmosphere was never even on the radar, totally irrelevant!"
Ned glanced at her and lowered his eyes, smiling faintly.
Soon, the chef pushed over a dining cart. This one was special: it had a charcoal grill on top. With practiced ease, he worked right beside their table. Whenever a guest wanted a bite, he deftly sliced a small portion from the large, premium cut sizzling on the grill. The food arrived piping hot, juicy, and impossibly tender.
The restaurant manager then re-entered their private room, reverently carrying a bottle wrapped in red silk. This time he personally uncorked a legendary 1982 vintage and poured it for them.
"Did you order the wine?" Sophie asked.
"Mhm," Ned nodded.
Staring at the deep red liquid shimmering in the crystal goblet, Sophie said timidly, "I hardly ever drink. And I've definitely never had wine like this. How exactly are you supposed to drink it?"
Ned couldn't help chuckling. "Like this." He lifted his glass and drained it in one smooth motion.
"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" She shot him a playful glare. "Obviously I know you just drink it! But isn't there some fancy rule for drinking high-end red wine?"
"What rules? Beer, red wine, whiskey, drink whatever you feel like. The only rule is to enjoy yourself."
"You're always leading me astray! Back in high school I was in the etiquette club. Drinking fine red wine in an upscale restaurant is definitely not like that!" she teased.
"Just stop overthinking it. Come on, to our first proper date with just the two of us, cheers!" Ned raised his glass toward her.
Sophie quickly grasped the delicate stem of her own glass, clinked it gently against his, then tilted her head back and finished the wine in one go. She even licked her lips afterward, surprised at how smooth it was, no harsh bite at all, just a sweet, lingering warmth in her throat.
Ned found her bold, unpretentious gulping hilarious. He picked up the bottle and refilled her glass. "Slow down. The easier a red wine goes down, the faster it sneaks up on you."
"Is that so? I hardly ever drink, since I never really get the chance, but no matter how much I have, I never seem to get drunk!"
"Seriously?" Ned raised an eyebrow.
"Don't believe me? Wanna test it out?" Sophie grinned, throwing down the challenge with a playful spark in her eyes.
Ned chuckled, took a small sip from his glass, and looked at her with teasing eyes. "Aren't you afraid of what might happen if you get tipsy and lose control?"
Sophie's cheeks instantly flushed bright red. "You're always saying such improper things!" She pretended to be stern.
"Eating the finest steak, drinking a legendary '82, with my official girlfriend right beside me; how am I supposed to stay proper in a setting like this?" Ned swirled his glass, giving her a roguish grin.
Sophie's eyes widened, and she couldn't hold back her laughter. "You, you… I'm ignoring you from now on!"
Ned dropped the bad-boy act and smiled gently. "Come on, try another sip. The second glass tastes different, richer, sweeter."
Sophie lifted her glass and took a small taste. "Whoa! You're right! I thought the first glass was already amazing, but now the second one has changed and it's even better. How does that work?"
The chef standing nearby glanced at Ned with an amused smile, clearly entertained.
Ned laughed at how adorable she looked. "Do you like it?" he asked.
"The flavor is so special! I didn't know wine could change like that. It's magical!" She tilted her head back and finished the glass in one go, then looked at Ned and covered her mouth as she giggled. "I want to try a third glass… maybe even a fourth. I wonder if it'll keep changing."
Ned burst out laughing, and the chef couldn't help but grin wide too.
His laughter was bright and carefree, and it made Sophie laugh along with him.
"But I already love this wine. If I start drinking it all the time just because I like it, I might turn into an alcoholic," Sophie concluded with mock seriousness.
Ned threw his head back and laughed even louder, his hearty laughter filling the entire private room.
The entire dinner was wonderfully pleasant. After the main course, the manager personally brought out a beautifully arranged fruit platter and some drinks, the fruits decorated like a work of art.
"Tonight's dinner made me really happy. The steak was so tender and juicy, and the wine opened up a whole new world of flavor for me. Thank you so much for treating me!" Sophie said sincerely while eating the fruit.
"All of a sudden you're being so polite. I'm not used to it," Ned teased softly, setting down his coffee cup with a low chuckle.
"Because I truly am grateful. You brought me to such a fancy restaurant and let me try this amazing wine. It's an experience I've never had before." After saying that, she lowered her head and took a small sip of her juice.
He was silent for a moment.
"Did you grow up without a father?" he asked suddenly.
Sophie froze. The smile was still in her eyes, but her voice instantly turned subdued. "Why are you bringing that up all of a sudden?"
"You've never told me anything about your childhood. I want to know about you, everything about you," he said, his gaze calm and steady.
"My… my upbringing was pretty simple. I never had a father, at least not in any of my memories. There was only Mom. She raised me all by herself, working so hard," she answered quietly, lowering her eyes.
"Besides your father, I really want to know more about the mother who single-handedly raised you and went through so much to bring you up." His expression was deep and serious.
"When I was little, Mom had to work two jobs just to support me. She wouldn't get home until the middle of the night, sometimes three or four in the morning. Back then, it wasn't easy for a woman to raise a baby all on her own. She had to go out and earn money every day, so she barely had any time to look after me. I was basically raised by the old lady next door.
That kind of life went on until I turned four and started kindergarten. Only then did she switch things up a little: she worked at a factory during the day, and after putting me to bed at night, she'd head out again to work the late shift at a convenience store. She still wouldn't get home until three or four in the morning. Sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of the night and realize she wasn't there. I'd cry the whole night. The neighbors would complain about the noise, and then Mom would have no choice but to pack us up and move again."
Ned lowered his eyes and said nothing.