Chapter 219

Evelyn Langley stared at her phone screen, brows furrowed.

"Did you find out who it was?"

Adrian Klein's voice came through the receiver. "The person wore a mask and hat—couldn't see their face. But it's definitely someone from Harvard."

Her grip tightened around the phone.

If it was a virus this time, next time it could be something far more dangerous.

A low chuckle suddenly sounded from the other end.

IT department colleagues exchanged confused glances at Adrian's unexpected laughter.

The eerie sound sent chills down their spines.

"Alright, I'll follow your lead," Adrian replied softly.

Evelyn's lips curved upward unconsciously. She set the phone down and headed toward the bathroom.

......

Nathan Evans jolted awake from a splitting headache.

Darkness pressed against the windows.

He'd slept through an entire day.

Familiar stomach cramps seized him. He mechanically opened the nightstand drawer for antacids. Ice-cold water burned his throat, sending shivers through his body.

"Pills aren't food. I made yam and pork rib soup for you..."

"Too salty? I'll use less salt next time..."

"Can you drink less tonight? Your stomach just started healing..."

"Nathan, please don't drink so much. It hurts to watch..."

"If you come home drunk again, I swear I'll be furious!"

"Today's perch and tofu soup—you're finishing every drop... Mmph! Always using that move..."

"Nathan Evans! Kissing me won't get you out of this!"

......

"Stop drinking."

......

"I hate the smell of alcohol on you."

......

"There's congee in the pot. I'm going to bed."

......

Memories flooded in like tidal waves.

Evelyn had once cared so deeply about his health.

At first, she'd nagged like an overbearing housekeeper, but always followed her scolding with warm soup.

On good days, he'd silence her with kisses.

On bad days, he'd snap at her.

Gradually, she stopped lecturing—just quietly prepared hangover remedies.

He'd mistaken her silence for maturity.

Now he understood it was the silence of utter disappointment.

The drawer overflowed with empty pill boxes, a stark reminder of how long it had been since anyone cooked for him.

One day. Two days...

Three months. Half a year...

Each memory cut deeper than the last.

The door creaked open.

Chloe Valentine entered with a tray, her face brightening when she saw him awake. "Nathan, you're finally up. I made congee and some side dishes..."