Chapter_195
Hillary turned around, momentarily freezing with the soup in her hands when she saw Tyler standing in the doorway. After a brief pause, she smiled warmly. “Tyler, I didn’t realize you were here.”
Darren, noticing the shift in her demeanor, glanced over at Tyler with a faint smile. “We’re here to visit Olivia,” Darren said, motioning toward the soup.
Tyler nodded and stepped aside, his voice calm but carrying an edge of exhaustion. “I’ve just visited Naomi. Please, go ahead with your visit.”
“Alright,” Darren replied with a reassuring smile.
Before the couple moved to Olivia’s side, Tyler lingered for a moment, his gaze lingering on Olivia. She looked fragile, barely holding herself together in the bed, her face pale and exhausted.
Olivia, sensing his presence, weakly called out to them. “Dad, Aunt Hillary.”
Though her words were soft, there was a quiet joy in seeing them, but the weight of her illness dulled the brightness of her expression. She had missed them, but the joy was overshadowed by her discomfort.
Darren walked closer to the bed, his concern evident. “Feeling any better now? Are you still feeling unwell?”
Olivia, visibly weakened from days of vomiting, offered a weak smile. “I’m okay, I feel alright,” she reassured him, though her pale face and trembling hands betrayed the truth of her condition.
Darren’s face softened, and he took her hand in his, offering a comforting squeeze. “Well done, Olivia. You’re doing better.”
Forcing another smile, Olivia was about to speak when Hillary approached with a thermos. “Have some soup. I made it for you, it’s still warm,” she said kindly.
But as soon as the thermos was opened, the scent of meat wafted up, and Olivia’s body recoiled. She quickly covered her nose, her stomach churning at the smell.
Both Hillary and Darren were caught off guard by her sudden reaction. The room fell into an awkward silence.
In the hallway, Tyler paused mid-smoke, his attention drawn by the noise. He flicked the cigarette away and peered into the ward, watching as Olivia bent over in discomfort. He hesitated for a moment, torn between stepping in and staying back, before he chose to remain at a distance, his eyes fixed on Olivia and the others.
Olivia’s reaction to the soup intensified, and soon the familiar signs of nausea took over. She began vomiting once more, her body wracked with violent convulsions. The maid rushed to her side, doing her best to comfort her.
After what felt like an eternity, the vomiting finally subsided. Olivia lay back against the pillows, weak and trembling.
Hillary’s voice, tinged with concern, broke the silence. “What’s wrong with her?” she asked, her eyes flicking nervously between Olivia and the maid.
The maid quickly responded, “Ms. Olivia has been feeling nauseous. She can’t tolerate the smell of meat, even in soup.”
Hillary frowned, her brow furrowing with worry. “Then what has she been eating?”
“Mainly vegetables,” the maid answered, her tone apologetic.
“That won’t do,” Hillary insisted, her voice firm. “She needs meat. It’s crucial for her nutrition at this stage.”
Olivia felt a wave of panic rise in her chest. She had been fighting back the nausea, trying to keep herself composed, but Hillary’s insistence was pushing her to the brink. She didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want to seem weak, but every part of her screamed to avoid the soup.
Ignoring Olivia’s discomfort, Hillary continued, “She needs this, Olivia. The baby needs it.” She reached out to offer the spoonful of soup, her voice softening with a mixture of concern and persistence. “I made this myself, Olivia. Drink it now.”
Olivia’s stomach churned violently at the sight of the soup, but Hillary’s coaxing words left her with no room to argue. Darren noticed Olivia’s tension and moved closer, placing a hand on Hillary’s arm to stop her. “Don’t force her, Hillary. She’s still sick.”
But Hillary wasn’t deterred. “She must drink it. The baby needs her to be strong.”
Hillary turned back to Olivia, her voice now more insistent. “Come on, Olivia. You’ll feel better after this. You need to eat more after vomiting.”
Olivia’s throat constricted as the spoon came closer, her body fighting against the urge to resist. With great effort, she opened her mouth and swallowed the soup, the taste lingering in her mouth like ash. She forced herself to remain still, to not react, even as the nausea threatened to overwhelm her once again.
Hillary smiled, a fleeting look of satisfaction crossing her face as Olivia reluctantly took the soup, though the joy was short-lived. Olivia could barely hold her eyes open, her body trembling with the effort of trying to keep it together.