Chapter 1048: I Choose Dad

"If you had a mother," Besse asked Salem, her voice calm despite her inner turmoil, "would you choose her?"

"I would choose my dad," Salem replied instantly, his voice clear and unwavering.

A pang of disappointment, though expected, pierced Besse's heart. She forced a calm demeanor. "Don't you want a mother very much?"

"I do want a mom," Anan responded, leaving Besse's embrace to look at her with earnest innocence. "Una wants a mom too. And Dad needs a wife. But what we need most is to be together as a family, not separated. I hope Mom comes back to us, instead of us leaving her."

Besse offered a faint smile, masking her sadness.

Salem continued confidently, "I've never met my mother. While I could love her very much, I love my father more. He's been there for me since I was little, even when he's busy. He didn't abandon us like our mother did."

Besse gently touched his head. "I see."

Salem, displaying a perceptiveness beyond his years, noticed something in Besse's words. "Miss Besse, did you find my mother?"

Besse shook her head. "No." She couldn't offer false hope, knowing his mother wouldn't return.

"I thought you had," Salem said, his disappointment muted, as if the yearning had lessened. Perhaps he'd adjusted to life without her. "If you find her someday," he added earnestly, "please tell her we're waiting for her to come home."

Besse's eyes welled. Emotion overwhelmed her.

Salem, noticing her tears, was startled. "Miss Besse, what's wrong? Are you unwell? Is your wound hurting? Should I call the doctor?"

"No," Besse said, forcing a smile. "I just remembered my parents."

"I know you're an orphan," Salem said quickly. "Auntie Susan told me."

Besse was grateful for Susan's years of care. She treated Salem as her own, a true friend, partially filling the void of a mother's love.

Salem offered comfort. "Don't be sad, Miss Besse. After you marry Prince Doyle and have a baby, you won't feel lonely anymore."

"Who told you being a mother means not being lonely?"

"Auntie Susan," he replied honestly. "She said when I become a father, I won't look for my mom anymore."

Besse admired Susan's unconventional wisdom.

"I'm not an orphan," Besse stated, "so I'm not alone."

Salem's question was cut short by a nurse's urgent arrival. "Miss Besse, please come to Mr. George's ward. He's lost control, and we dare not approach him."

"What happened?" Besse asked, shocked.

"He suddenly lost control," the nurse explained, helping Besse into a wheelchair. "He had breakfast, watched TV—a fashion show—then asked for pen and paper. After receiving them, he… lost control." The nurse's voice trembled with fear.

Besse turned to Salem and Una. "You should go to your father's room. I'll leave now."

Salem's worry was evident. "Do you want me to accompany you?"

"No."

Besse left with the nurse. They soon arrived at Doyle's ward. Doyle was recovering well; the doctor predicted discharge in a week. However, Besse hadn't anticipated his sudden outburst.

"Doyle!"

The room was in disarray. A terrified nurse cowered in a corner. Doyle froze at Besse's voice. The startled doctor rushed over.

"Don't come near me!" Doyle roared.

The doctor recoiled. Doyle, like a furious lion, was terrifying. Besse saw blood trickling from his injured hand and wheeled herself to his side.

"Besse, go back," Doyle gritted, desperately suppressing his rage. He didn't want her to see his weakness.

He'd lost control. While watching the fashion show, he'd had a design inspiration. He'd asked for pen and paper, but his hand was too weak to even hold the pen, let alone draw.

He couldn't accept his incompetence. He'd clung to the belief he could still design, refusing to believe the doctor's diagnosis. But the inability to hold a pen shattered his denial. Reality forced him to admit his helplessness.