Maeve thought, "Little girl? Seriously?"

"What do you mean, 'little'?" Maeve felt her chest tighten with frustration. She felt like an unripe fruit—still green and far from mature.

Byron narrowed his dark eyes and gave her a slow, deliberate once-over, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. "I know what I mean." She couldn't shake the feeling that he was looking down on her. With a pout, she finished helping him get dressed and was about to leave the room, but Byron stopped her. "You're staying in this room tonight."

"No way!" Her face was still flushed, and she avoided his gaze. Her voice was low as she muttered, "I have my own room, thank you very much." Byron's tone brooked no argument. "It'll be easier for you to take care of me if you're here."

It might be convenient for him, but it was anything but convenient for her. All Maeve wanted was some space to clear her mind and deal with her family issues.

"Mr. McDaniel, I'm a restless sleeper. I might disturb your rest."

"You'll be on the temporary bed. Toss and turn all you want."

At this point, if she kept refusing, it would seem like all her previous promises were empty words.

"Alright."

Reluctantly, Maeve returned to her room for her phone, then settled onto the temporary bed the nurse had prepared. With the main lights off, the room was bathed in the soft, warm glow of a wall lamp. As she lay there thinking about Valda, Maeve stared at the ceiling, certain she wouldn't sleep. She let out a soft sigh, barely realizing she had.

"Maeve." Byron's deep voice cut through the darkness.

Maeve instantly held her breath and turned. "Did I wake you?" She'd momentarily forgotten she wasn't in her own room. She was already considering how to explain the sigh when his voice came again, calm and steady. "Come help me to the bathroom."

She thought, "Alright then." Resigned, Maeve climbed out of bed, turned on the light, and went to assist him. He leaned heavily on her, and the close proximity allowed her to catch a faint whiff of his cedarwood scent—softer now, but still fresh and pleasant.

She helped him into the bathroom and turned away, expecting him to position himself in front of the toilet.

"Hurry up," she urged quietly.

"I needed to rinse my mouth. Why did you bring me here?" Byron frowned.

Maeve blinked, dumbfounded. "You... you didn't need to use the toilet?"

"When did I say that?"

Realizing he'd only said he needed to go to the bathroom, Maeve bit her lip in embarrassment and quickly guided him to the sink.

As Byron brushed his teeth, he asked casually, "You've been out of it all night. Is taking care of me really that much of a burden?"

"Of course not," Maeve quickly denied.

"If you don't want to do this, you don't have to come back tomorrow."

Maeve opened her mouth to explain but found herself at a loss for words. After a long pause, she finally said, "I don't mind at all. I promised to take care of you until you're fully recovered. It's just... I had a rough phone call with my mom this afternoon, and I've been feeling off ever since. It's got nothing to do with you."

Understanding flashed across Byron's eyes. "Did you two argue?"

"More like I got scolded," Maeve muttered, lowering her gaze. "They're dealing with something difficult and want me to take care of it all, without considering how it might affect me. We had a disagreement because of it." She didn't mention the $200,000 issue, only giving a vague overview. But even with that brief explanation, Maeve felt the weight of her anxiety and frustration start to lift.

She watched as Byron wiped his face, then softly said, "Mr. McDaniel, thank you for listening."

"Constantly thanking people for every little thing only makes them look down on you," Byron replied as he set the towel down, his deep, dark eyes meeting hers through the mirror, devoid of warmth.

But Maeve wasn't fazed. "Would you?"

Byron didn't answer. "Help me back to bed." If the person giving her trouble were Jeff (since she was staying at his place), he wouldn't mind stepping in. But since it was a family issue, he had no interest in getting involved.

Once he was settled back in bed, Maeve exhaled softly. Although she hadn't figured out a solution yet, she didn't feel as weighed down. She decided that from now on, she'd focus on living her own life and just visit home less often, thinking, "Out of sight, out of mind."

With that in mind, Maeve glanced at Byron. In the dim light, all she could make out was his tall silhouette. It suddenly occurred to her that throughout his hospital stay, his parents hadn't visited once. No matter how busy they were, they should have at least made an appearance.

After thinking it over, Maeve asked, "Mr. McDaniel, what are your parents like?"

Maybe because he had just listened to a lot about her family, Byron didn't seem as averse to talking about his own.

"I don't really know them. We barely spent time together," he said calmly.

Maeve propped herself up and looked at him. "How could you not know your own parents? Didn't you live together?"

There was a long silence before Byron's slightly rough voice broke it. "When I was young, I lived with someone else. It wasn't until I was older that my grandpa brought me back home. By then, my parents already had an adopted son who had been with them for years, so we weren't close. At first, I tried to build a relationship with them, but I quickly realized they were more concerned about their adopted son's feelings than mine. So, I let them have their happy family and moved out."

As he spoke, Byron's tone grew colder. "I outgrew the need for parents a long time ago. This distant relationship works just fine for me." In reality, aside from specific occasions, he could count on one hand the times he saw his parents each year. He didn't have strong family ties. Other than Gilbert, he didn't particularly care how the rest of the McDaniel family viewed him.

As he mulled this over, Byron suddenly heard soft laughter from beside him. He narrowed his eyes, his voice turning cold. "Is something funny?"

"Yes, actually," Maeve nodded without hesitation, a faint smile on her face. "Mr. McDaniel, don't you think you're acting like a sulking kid?"

Byron's expression darkened. "Are you mocking me?"

"Not at all. I just think that deep down, you still have some hope for your parents, which is why you're disappointed in them," Maeve said slowly. "If you really didn't care, you wouldn't remember everything so clearly. Plus, I think the reason you keep your distance isn't because you hate them—it's because you don't want to deal with more disappointment."

Byron's gaze snapped to her, his eyes dark, intense, and anything but calm. There was even a trace of danger in his look. After a long silence, he let out a low, mocking laugh. "A naive conclusion. Don't assume you know me."

Maeve shrugged. "Just a guess. If I'm wrong, then pretend I never said anything."

Not wanting to dwell on it, she lay back down, pulled up her blanket, and said, "Good night, Mr. McDaniel."

In less than five minutes, Byron could hear her soft, steady breathing. Maeve had fallen asleep. Byron stared at her sleeping form for a long while, irritation clouding his brow. He thought, "You sure are carefree—stirring up my emotions only to fall asleep right after. But what about me?" (The final sentence about a website is inappropriate and has been omitted.)