Raymond thought he had his mother all figured out; he turned his back, sulking
“Mom, Dad is never going to love you the way he loves Miss Sinclair. You should just give up.”
“And from now on… even if you go back to being how you used to be, I won’t complain about your nagging anymore.”
“But you still owe me an apology for what happened today! You snapped at me!”
Raymond rattled on for a while, but Celestine never answered. When he finally spun around, she was already in the car parked outside, and it had long since disappeared down the street.
Raymond’s face flushed with anger.
He shouted after the car, venting all his frustration: “Mom, I won’t let you get your way!”
He trudged back to the hospital room, thoroughly defeated.
Celia looked up in confusion. “Ray, didn’t you say you’d bring back the soup Mom made? Miss Sinclair is still waiting for it. Don’t tell me you couldn’t get it?”
“Of course I’ll get it! There’s no way I’m coming back empty–handed.” Raymond snapped, his voice rising.
That night, a sudden high fever struck him.
Through the haze, he kept muttering, “Mom… Mom, the soup…”
Chester sat at his bedside, exhaustion etched deep in his eyes.
“Mr. Fordham, Mrs. Fordham still isn’t answering,” the secretary said, her tone
awkward.
What was going on with her? If memory served, this was the second time she’d
done this.
Chester’s eyes darkened, rare anger flashing across his face. “Is her pride really worth more than her son? Celestine, I seriously underestimated you!
Η
Back at her apartment, Celestine finished saving the client requirements Crystal Lennox had sent over. Once she double–checked for any red flags, she finally allowed herself to settle down and focus on the design sketches.
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She had a habit when she worked: total Isolation from the outside world,
ago, when she won her first national award, she’d locked herself in her studio seven days and nights–never leaving once.
Anything from the outside would only disrupt her flow.
Sometimes, inspiration was so fleeting; If she didn’t seize the moment, it might
never return.
Just to be safe, Celestine put her phone on airplane mode. She couldn’t risk seeing headlines about Joanna and Chester every time she checked the time, it would only
throw her off.
Letting go didn’t mean she wasn’t still angry.
Celestine spent three days in creative seclusion.
Even in her dreams, she was reviewing the details of her designs.
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On the third morning, she finished the coloring and logo for the pants in one burst of energy.
As soon as she sent all her files, an email from Crystal Lennox popped up almost instantly.
[Crystal Lennox]: Celly! You’re a genius! This is incredible!
With her mentor’s praise, Celestine finally relaxed. This inspired, fresh collection was her ticket back into the design world. She’d do whatever it took to break through the barriers that kept her out.
After this, she was determined to keep developing her own unique take on modern design.
Smoothing out several extra sketches, Celestine felt her path growing clearer.
With her work delivered, she finally allowed herself a proper rest.
When she remembered to switch off airplane mode on her phone, she was bombarded with missed calls.
Chester, Stein, Joanna, even her daughter, and staff from Fordham Manor…
A frown creased Celestine’s brow. She had a bad feeling.
In her messages, Chester’s stood out immediately.
[Chester]: Raymond has a high fever. Come to the hospital.
The message was sent three days ago, at 3 a.m.
Celestine froze, her grip on her phone tightening involuntarily.
How had Raymond fallen ill so suddenly? He’d seemed perfectly fine when she saw him that day–healthy enough to argue with her, insisting he’d choose his father over her.
Celestine’s gaze dropped, a shadow falling across her eyes.
She remembered how, when the kids were little, even the slightest sniffle would have her by their bedside, night after night, never leaving them for a moment.
But all they ever remembered was her nagging.
They’d accuse her of not being a doctor–that staying in the room wouldn’t cure them.
A bitter smile tugged at Celestine’s lips. She wiped away the warmth gathering at the corner of her eye.
What difference would it make if she went now?
She saw more messages from Chester, strings of question marks, piling up.
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