The soft jingling of her bracelet was drowned out by the sudden, frantic ringing of her phone.
Jiaxuan glanced at the caller ID.
Lin Jiayuan.
Her heart skipped.
"Hello—"
"Jiaxuan!" His voice was tight, trembling. "Mama fainted. We rushed her to the hospital. I'm here now. Come quickly."
The world tilted.
"What?" she whispered.
She didn't wait to hear another word. Yichen, who had been giggling beside her as they arranged some toys in the living room, looked up, startled by her sudden stillness.
Jiaxuan bent, scooping him into her arms with trembling hands, her voice soft but urgent. "We need to go see Grandma, okay?"
Grabbing her car keys from the counter, she dashed toward the garage, clutching her son tightly, her heart racing in panic. She didn't even bother telling the housekeepers—her entire body moved on instinct.
Her knuckles were white against the steering wheel, and her lips trembled as she murmured prayers under her breath. Please don't let anything happen to her… please not now… not after everything…
—
The hospital loomed ahead like a cold fortress.
She hadn't even come to a full stop before she threw the door open, Yichen still in her arms. Lin Jiayuan was already waiting at the entrance, face pale with worry. The moment he saw her, he rushed forward and lifted Yichen from her arms gently.
"Jiaxuan, let me carry him. You need to breathe—"
"No, I—"
"I'll take care of him, I promise." He was firm but kind, holding Yichen tightly, even as the boy squirmed and protested.
"Mama! Mama!" Yichen's tiny arms reached back for her, but Jiayuan held him securely, murmuring softly to soothe him.
Jiaxuan was already sprinting inside.
"Doctor!" she called out, panicked, desperate. "I'm Lin Minyao's daughter. Where is she? What's going on? She was fine—she was getting better, she was—"
A nurse guided her to the on-call doctor, who looked up from a clipboard with a composed expression.
"She fainted due to exhaustion," the doctor explained gently. "Her vitals are stable. It was most likely stress. Her condition has always required careful rest, and she might've been pushing herself too hard. We just need to let her recover quietly."
Jiaxuan didn't wait.
She turned and rushed toward the private room, the white hallway stretching like a tunnel before her. Her heels echoed as she ran, breath caught in her throat.
She pushed the door open—
And stopped.
Her mother lay there, frail but peaceful, her chest rising and falling in a calm rhythm. An IV drip stood silently by her bedside. The sight rooted Jiaxuan to the floor.
Tears spilled.
She stepped in slowly, dropping her purse to the floor with a soft thud.
Careful not to make a sound, she moved to her mother's side, lowering herself to the ground, hands gripping the edge of the mattress.
"Mama…" she choked, her voice barely above a whisper.
She buried her face into the sheets beside her mother's hand, the sobs finally breaking free. She cried quietly, desperately, like a child who had held it all in for far too long. She didn't care that her knees hurt or that the coldness of the room seeped into her bones.
Her mother was everything.
The one constant in her life.
And the thought of losing her—again—shattered something inside.
—
A soft knock pulled her from her grief.
She turned, eyes red and swollen.
Jiayuan stood at the doorway, Yichen still in his arms.
Her brother's face was stricken with concern, but she gave him a reassuring, tearful smile.
"I'm okay," she whispered hoarsely. "She's okay…"
The moment Yichen saw her, he squirmed again, arms outstretched.
"Mama…"
His voice cracked.
"Mamaaaaa…" he cried again, tears rolling down his round cheeks as his small hands reached for her.
Jiaxuan rushed to take him from Jiayuan's arms, hugging him to her chest tightly.
He buried his face into her neck, trembling.
She felt it—the silent, heartbreaking way he clung to her, like he had been holding in his fear the entire time. His tiny fingers gripped her dress, his sniffles muffled by her skin.
"I'm here," she whispered into his hair, rocking gently. "Mama's here, baby. I'm not going anywhere."
He didn't say a word.
He just stayed there, pressed against her chest, listening to her heartbeat like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
And maybe, for both of them—it was.......
Later On
The wheels of her car slowed to a crawl as she turned into the grand gates of the Huo Mansion.
Yichen was asleep in her arms, his little head nestled against her shoulder, warm breath brushing against her neck. His tiny hand clung to her blouse, as if still afraid she might vanish.
The heavy gates shut behind her with a low clang, and before she could even put the car in park, the front doors of the mansion burst open.
Housekeepers rushed out, faces laced with concern.
"Madam Lin!"
"Oh heavens, you're back—"
"Mistress, are you okay?"
Their voices swarmed her as she stepped out, cradling Yichen tightly. One of them reached for the boy with gentle hands. Jiaxuan nodded, letting her take him with care.
"Please… take him inside," she said softly, her voice hoarse with exhaustion.
"Warm milk… just in case he wakes up crying. Not too hot."
"Yes, Madam."
Jiaxuan's face was pale, her eyes shadowed from the thoughts at the hospital, but her movements were purposeful. She walked briskly through the front door, bypassing the curious glances from the other maids.
Once inside, she went straight to the stairs, her footsteps light as not to disturb Yichen's sleep. She climbed up and disappeared into the master bedroom.
The door shut with a soft click.
Moments later, she emerged—no longer in her heels, her hair tied into a messy bun. She had changed into a simple blouse and cardigan. A large tote bag hung from her shoulder, half-packed with folded clothes. She moved like a woman with a mission—silent, unwavering, and careful.
She stepped into the pantry next, gathering some fresh fruits. Then to the hallway closet, retrieving folded blankets. The dining kitchen smelled faintly of ginger and rice from the morning's breakfast. She returned to the kitchen, opening the fridge.
One of the younger housekeepers stood by the sink, drying dishes, puzzled.
"Madam… what are you doing?"
Jiaxuan didn't answer at first.
She took two clean thermal flasks from the rack and carefully packed hot dishes into them—pork bone soup, stir-fried vegetables, and sweet yam porridge. She wiped each container neatly and arranged them into an insulated bag.
"Please…" she said gently, not looking up, "...when Shenzhi returns, warm these up for him."
The housekeeper blinked. "Yes, of course."
Jiaxuan finally looked up. Her eyes, though tired, still held a quiet fire. "Also, when Yichen wakes up, give him warm milk, not formula. Use the almond milk I bought last week. It calms his stomach."
The maids exchanged glances.
Where was she going?
Before they could ask, she walked to the front door and waved at the guards.
"Bring the bags into the boot of my car."
"Yes, Madam."
One of the older cooks stepped out cautiously. "Madam Lin… forgive me, but is everything alright?"
Jiaxuan paused, her hand on the doorknob. She turned with a gentle smile, the kind that concealed far more than it revealed.
"I'm just going out, don't worry, do your work. I'll be back before you know it."
Her voice was calm.
"I'll call my husband myself."
And with that, she left.
The housekeeper stood at the door, watching as the guards loaded her bags. The insulated flasks, the blankets, the fruit… Everything had been done with care, but no one understood why.
Behind her, the kitchen maids whispered.
"Why isn't Young Master going with her?"
"Is she really okay?"
"She didn't even rest…"
But Jiaxuan wasn't listening anymore.
She was already behind the wheel, eyes focused, lips pressed into a thin line.
She wasn't running away.
She was doing what no one expected her to still do—
Loving, caring, and carrying everything in silence.
For her husband.
For Yichen.
And, even now…
For Her mother.
The corridor of the hospital was hushed, painted in the pale yellow glow of early afternoon sun. Jiaxuan walked softly, her footsteps soundless against the floor tiles, her arms laden with blankets and a warm bag of food. She nudged the door open with her elbow and stepped into her mother's private room.
It was quiet inside—peacefully so.
Her mother was still asleep, her breathing steady, color slowly returning to her cheeks. The IV drip beside her pulsed gently, and the monitors hummed their rhythmic lullaby of life. The woman who had raised her—strong, kind, weathered by grief and sacrifice—lay there in fragile slumber.
But Jiaxuan's gaze shifted from the hospital bed to the couch tucked in the corner.
There, curled up like a child, was her younger brother—Lin Jiayuan.
His legs were pulled up, arms crossed tightly over his chest, lips slightly parted in exhaustion. Even in sleep, his brows were creased as if still worrying, carrying the weight of a family that never stopped hurting. The sight made something in Jiaxuan's chest tighten.
She walked to him quietly, unfolded a blanket and laid it gently over his shoulders. The warmth stirred him.
His eyes blinked open hazily, and then widened in shock. "Jie…Jiejie?" His voice cracked.
She leaned down, her smile soft and assuring. "Yes. It's me."
Jiayuan sat up, rubbing his eyes. He stared at her as if confirming she was real, then immediately straightened. "You didn't sleep, did you? I told you to go home and rest—"
Jiaxuan shook her head with a quiet laugh, reaching into the food bag. "You're worrying too much. I just went to freshen up, made some food. You haven't eaten, have you?"
"I'm fine," he lied, clearly not fine.
She ignored him and continued anyway, pulling out a thermos, unscrewing the lid. The warm aroma of lotus root pork soup filled the room.
She passed one flask to him, then opened another, taking out a plastic bowl she had brought from home. With practiced hands, she served the rice and soup, placing it on the small table beside him.
Jiayuan watched her silently.
He reached out and grabbed her wrist gently.
"Jiaxuan," he said, voice low, "The doctor said you're tired too. He told me you've been running around nonstop since mom was admitted. If you keep doing this… if you collapse like mom did… I—" His voice cracked. "I won't forgive myself."
She blinked at him, touched by his words.
Then she smiled, her warmest yet, and poked his cheek. "How can I collapse when my little brother's pouting like this in front of me?"
"I'm not pouting," he muttered.
"Eat," she insisted, pressing the spoon into his hand.
"I said I'm—"
She picked up the spoon herself and dipped it in the bowl. "Then I'll feed you."
"Wait—no—"
But it was too late. She brought the spoon to his mouth with the same patience a mother has for her child. Jiayuan turned red and tried to swat her hand away, but her eyes were stern.
"Eat. No arguments."
With a groan, he opened his mouth and accepted the food.
She kept feeding him quietly, smiling with each bite. He chewed slowly, watching her in disbelief.
This was his sister.
The same Jiaxuan who used to skip family dinners. Who had once chased love blindly, leaving everyone else behind.
But here she was, sitting before him—tired, eyes sunken, but glowing with the gentle pride of someone who now knew what mattered. Not just love. Not just romance.
But family. Home. Responsibility.
He couldn't stop the tears from slipping down his cheeks.
Jiaxuan noticed and paused.
"A'yuan?"
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"For what?"
"For not protecting you back then. For letting everything fall apart between us. For not forgiving you sooner."
Her eyes softened. She set the bowl down and pulled him into a hug.
"You don't have to apologize for anything," she whispered. "You were the only one who stayed—even when I didn't deserve it. That's why I'm here now. For Mom. For you. For Yichen."
They stayed like that for a long while, brother and sister, tangled in silent reconciliation.
And outside the window, the clouds began to part, sunlight spilling into the room—as if the heavens, too, finally sighed in relief.
Later That Evening
It was well past midnight when Huo Shenzhi stepped into the mansion.
The lights in the main hallway had been dimmed, casting long shadows across the marble floors. He loosened his tie as he walked in, fatigue weighing on his shoulders. The house was unusually still, and only the faint flicker of the wall lamp near the stairs hinted at life.
The soft clatter of porcelain echoed from the kitchen.
"Still awake?" he asked quietly, noticing one of the housekeepers wiping a teacup dry.
The older woman turned around, startled. "Young Master," she greeted with a slight bow, quickly recovering herself. "You're home late."
He nodded, gaze sweeping the room absently before landing back on her. "Why are you still awake?"
She smiled weakly, her voice steady despite the flicker of unease in her eyes. "Ah, I couldn't sleep. Just thought I'd tidy up a bit."
Something in her tone didn't sit right.
Shenzhi's brows pulled together slightly. "Where's Yichen?"
The housekeeper hesitated, her fingers tightening around the edge of the cloth in her hand.
"He's… upstairs," she answered. "In his room."
"And my wife?" he asked almost casually—but his voice was taut. Controlled.
This time, she didn't respond right away.
Instead, she set the cup down carefully and turned to face him properly. Her knees wobbled as she slowly knelt to the floor.
"Young Master…" she began, voice trembling.
He took a step forward, his heart beginning to beat faster. "What is it?"
"She left."
Shenzhi froze.
"She left?"
The housekeeper nodded, her eyes lowered. "She left earlier in the afternoon… with Young Master Yichen. She came back just before sundown. Dropped him off. Packed a few things—blankets, food, clothes. She said she'd call you later."
He didn't speak.
"Did she call you… sir?"
Her words barely reached him. His head had already turned toward the stairs, his legs moving before he could think.
He stormed up, the silence of the mansion now screaming in his ears.
Their bedroom door was open.
The lights were off—but the space was unmistakably empty.
The bed hadn't been slept in.
Her wardrobe was cracked open slightly, and when he yanked it open fully, he saw a chaotic mess. Several hangers were empty. Shoes scattered. A few of her scarves tossed carelessly over the edge.
She had packed in a hurry.
His throat clenched.
"No," he whispered under his breath.
This wasn't her running away, he told himself.
Not again.
She had promised she'd fight for them.
Hadn't she?
He pulled out his phone, heart now slamming against his ribs as he dialed her number.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Straight to voicemail.
"No, no—Jiaxuan—" he cursed beneath his breath.
Again. Redialing.
Voicemail.
The sound of that automated message grew louder in the quiet room until it filled his head with static.
In a surge of frustration and helplessness, he slammed his fist into the wall.
The thud echoed.
His knuckles split slightly on contact, but he didn't feel it—not the sting, not the pain. All he felt was the absence of her warmth beside him. The cold sheets on her side of the bed.
"Where the hell did you go…" he murmured, pressing the heel of his palm against his chest.
He wanted to panic.
But he didn't want to care.
He shouldn't care.
After all, wasn't this what he warned himself about? Not to fall again?
Not to trust the sweetness of her voice when she called him "honey," or the gentleness of her touch when she pressed kisses to his forehead?
Still…
He sat on the edge of their bed, her perfume still lingering faintly in the room.
And then—
He laughed. Bitter. Dry.
"She said she would fight," he said aloud, voice hollow. "But she didn't even tell me where she was going."
Still holding his phone in hand, he stared at the blank screen, the redial button still glowing faintly.
He pressed it again.
Voicemail.
His voice cracked as he whispered, "Just be okay."
And for the first time in a long while, the fear he tried to bury returned—with teeth, with claws.
Because this time, he wasn't sure if she'd come back again.
THE NEXT MORNING
Morning light filtered gently through the frosted hospital windows, casting golden hues across the tiled floor. The sterile scent of antiseptic lingered, but the air was still and peaceful, softened by the quiet sound of measured breathing.
On the floor, beneath a blanket, Jiaxuan stirred.
She had fallen asleep leaning on Jiayuan, her younger brother's shoulder, their arms loosely tangled beneath the shared warmth of the hospital-issued blanket. Despite the discomfort of the floor, she had slept more soundly than she had in weeks. The exhaustion of the past few days had clung to her bones like damp clothes, and for once, her mind had granted her a few precious hours of dreamless rest.
But something pulled her from sleep.
A feeling. A presence.
Her eyes blinked open slowly.
Across the room, seated up on the hospital bed, her mother—Madam Lin—watched them with a warm, amused expression on her pale face.
"Mama…" Jiaxuan whispered, barely able to believe it.
She jolted upright, nearly stumbling as the blanket fell from her shoulders. Tears instantly welled in her eyes, the sight of her mother sitting up, conscious, and smiling, wrenching a sob from her throat.
"Mama!" she cried again, running to the bedside and embracing her gently, like porcelain. "You're awake…"
Her mother chuckled weakly, brushing her hand through her daughter's hair. "Silly girl… you're crying first thing in the morning. You'll frighten the nurses."
"I was so scared," Jiaxuan wept softly. "You fainted and… I thought—Mama, I thought I lost you."
Madam Lin's fingers trembled as she touched her daughter's cheek. "I just felt… tired. I didn't mean to cause such a fuss."
Jiaxuan sniffled and helped her recline better. "Are you thirsty? Wait—I brought fruits."
She reached into the small cooler beside the bed and poured a small glass of warm water, carefully helping her mother sip. Afterward, she unsealed a container of peeled, sliced fruits—apples, pears, papaya—and fed her little by little.
"Not too fast," Jiaxuan scolded softly, wiping her mother's mouth like she was a child. "I don't want you to choke."
Her mother chuckled again, cheeks gaining a faint pink. "I'm still your mother, you know."
Jiaxuan only smiled, though her eyes shimmered with emotion.
"You should've told the housekeeper you were tired," she whispered. "Why overwork yourself?"
"I didn't think it was serious," Madam Lin admitted. "Just a little… ache here and there. I overlooked it."
Jiaxuan said nothing more—only brushed her mother's hair back and kissed her forehead gently.
Moments later, she gently woke Jiayuan. "A'Yuan," she said with a soft nudge. "Wake up. Mama's awake."
He blinked slowly, disoriented at first before realizing what she said. He scrambled to the bedside, clutching his mother's hand, relief etched in every line of his face.
Jiaxuan stepped back, watching them silently with a grateful heart.
After checking everything—blankets, food, water—she turned to her brother. "I'm going home to prepare some food. Look after her, okay?"
He nodded, eyes still wet.
She picked up the now-empty flasks, her car keys, and left the room quietly.
---
The Huo mansion greeted her with the same silence from the day before—but now, there was a sound that pierced it.
Sobbing.
Panicked, desperate, loud sobbing.
She rushed inside.
"Young Madam!" the housekeeper exclaimed, startled as Jiaxuan entered.
At the base of the stairs, Yichen was in the housekeeper's arms, screaming at the top of his lungs. A shattered glass lay on the floor, milk pooling out like tears. His small fists flailed, face red and streaked with tears.
"Mama!" he cried out the moment he saw her.
"Yichen!" she gasped, rushing over.
The housekeeper quickly handed him over, flustered and overwhelmed.
He clung to her instantly, burying his face in her neck, still sobbing. She kissed his head, rocking him gently.
"Shh… I'm here now. I'm sorry, Mama's sorry," she whispered over and over again. "Did you cry this much?"
He didn't speak. He only hugged her tighter, arms small but desperate.
"Is Papa still sleeping?" Jiaxuan whispered into his ears, as his voice thick with tears.
The housekeeper answered softly, "He left early. Didn't touch his breakfast either."
Jiaxuan nodded slightly, placing Yichen on the kitchen counter as she stroked his cheeks.
She turned to the counter and began prepping—vegetables, rice, beef, sauce, and small finger foods. Her movements were fluid but determined, cutting through vegetables with a calm rhythm.
The housekeeper returned, concern all over her face. "Ma....Madam, let me do it. You look… so tired."
"I'm alright," Jiaxuan replied firmly, without turning. "He's had too many cold meals."
One by one, she packed them neatly into multiple insulated containers—each labeled, sealed, and stored with care. She even attached a sticky note on Shenzhi's lunch:
> "Eat this properly. I made it fresh. —Jiaxuan."
She handed that set to the housekeeper. "Give this to him at work. Don't forget."
The woman nodded solemnly.
Then she turned back to Yichen.
"Come on, little guy," she said warmly, lifting him down. "Let's get you cleaned up."
---
She bathed Yichen, dried him gently, and dressed him in a casual navy-blue jumper. She packed his cardigan, a small blanket, water, plate, napkin, snacks, and his favorite soft bunny.
The bag was slung over her shoulder, her purse in one hand, Yichen on her hip.
Before leaving, she turned back and addressed the maids.
"Make sure the food is reheated for Master Huo when he returns. Don't forget to send his food to him too before it gets cold please. I'll call later."
"Yes, Madam," they chorused.
With that, she walked out, her steps firm, her eyes calm.
She was tired, emotionally raw, but she had no time to fall apart.
Because if she didn't hold this family together—who would?.
_____
The sterile scent of disinfectant hung faintly in the hospital room, blending with the warm aroma of sliced apples and the soft hum of a cartoon playing on a muted tablet. Yichen sat nestled comfortably in his grandmother's lap, small fingers curled around a toy car. As long as his gaze found her—his Mama—even from across the room, he stayed still.
Every few moments, his round eyes darted around the room, as if checking to make sure everyone was still where he left them. His tiny giggle lit up the space whenever Jiayuan, Jiaxuan's younger brother, leaned forward to tickle his side, making the toddler squeal and wriggle with pure joy.
The laughter of the child echoed like an old memory—a reminder of what peace once felt like.
Lin Jiaxuan sat on the edge of her mother's bed, holding her hand gently. Her mother, thin but warm, gave her daughter that knowing look only mothers could manage. They had been talking for hours—about the hospital bills, her recovery, the house, the past... but now, they'd circled to the one thing Jiaxuan dreaded: returning home.
"You've already stayed here long enough," her mother said, patting the back of her hand. "Your son needs routine. Your husband—he'll get the wrong idea."
Jiaxuan bit her lower lip. "But I just got scared… when you fainted. I thought—what if I lose you too?"
Her mother smiled weakly, eyes kind. "I'm not going anywhere just yet, silly girl. But your house, Jiaxuan... that's where you belong now. You're someone's wife. Yichen's mother."
Jiaxuan's brows furrowed slightly, hesitating before whispering, "But what if Shenzhi gets tired finally not wanting me back in his life? he still thinks I'm—"
"Cheating?" her mother finished for her, with that same old honest bluntness. "He might. But that's exactly why you need to go back. Be in front of him. Not behind his back. Let him see for himself who you are."
Jiaxuan's throat ached at the quiet truth.
Across the room, Yichen was now sprawled across Jiayuan's chest, babbling toddler words and trying to reach for the man's phone. Jiayuan let out a hearty laugh, then turned to Jiaxuan with a boyish grin.
"He's a wild one, this kid," he said. "Just like you were, remember? Used to chase the neighborhood dogs and scream at me if I told on you."
Jiaxuan chuckled through misty eyes. It was strange… this warmth, this safety. Something she hadn't felt in so long. Something she feared she didn't deserve.
"Don't worry about Ma" her brother added softly, adjusting Yichen against him as the toddler nuzzled closer. "I'll take care of her. Just like before."
Their mother nodded in agreement, pulling the blankets higher around her waist. "Go home, Jiaxuan. Don't wait for trouble to find you before you act. Go be the mother and wife you promised you'd be."
Jiaxuan reached for Yichen, gently brushing his hair with her fingers. He looked up at her sleepily, then grinned.
"Mama, home?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.
She smiled and nodded. "Yes, baby. We're going home."
But as she gathered his cardigan and prepared to leave, a quiet storm stirred inside her—one that whispered Shenzhi's name.
Home was no longer just walls and a bed.
Home was a man whose heart she had broken... and a future she would fight to reclaim. She hoped it wasn't late to hold his hands again.