Under Jayson's constant care, Sidney quickly recovered enough to be discharged from the hospital. Jayson took her back to A City, putting aside all the work that had been delayed. He searched every hospital, but the only option they offered was a prosthetic. Desperate, he inquired about the possibility of nerve transplant surgery, but each doctor shook their head. The current medical technology simply wasn't advanced enough for such a procedure.
Jayson told Sidney the truth of the situation, and she showed no reaction, simply nodding and saying she understood, not asking anything further. He arranged for a doctor to help her recover, someone known for their expertise in holistic healing. The housekeeper, aware that something had happened during their trip, tactfully avoided mentioning the baby. The house fell into a quiet, somber stillness, with Sidney speaking much less than usual.
Most of the time, she stayed in the study, reading. It was rare for her to speak even two sentences in a day. When the butler asked her about household matters, she simply said to let the butler make the decisions, offering no opinions.
Aside from reading, she spent her time in the small garden, sitting on a bench, staring at the flowers. Sometimes, when the neighbor's little girl came home from kindergarten and passed by the gate, Sidney would walk over and lean against the fence, watching her with a soft, almost wistful smile. But soon, the smile would fade, replaced by a deeper sorrow that lingered in her eyes.
The butler told Jayson about what he had observed over the past days. Jayson was worried too, knowing Sidney hadn't yet moved past the shadow of the miscarriage. He tried his best to return home every evening, have dinner with her, and sit quietly with her in the study. He'd occasionally try to make small talk, but she always kept her head down, her eyes glued to the book. Sometimes she'd offer a faint smile, other times she'd barely acknowledge him. It felt like she was living in a world of her own, completely distant from everything around her.
One day, Jayson mustered up the courage to ask her, "Are you feeling down lately?"
"No," Sidney replied, her eyes still fixed on the book, not even bothering to look up.
"The brand of clothes you used to like has new stock in. You could go check it out if you want. Also, there's a new café in the mall. Atticus's wife said she wants to try it and asked if you'd like to go with her."
"Mm..." Sidney responded with a single syllable, but made no further indication.
"Will you go?"
"I don't want to go out," Sidney said flatly, her voice lacking emotion, but something about it felt off, like she couldn't quite express what she was feeling.
"It's not good to stay cooped up at home all day."
"It's fine, I feel at peace."
"If you feel fine, that's good. I just wish you'd be a little happier."
Sidney glanced up at him, didn't say anything, and went back to reading.
"Don't you like baking? There's a baking exhibition going on recently. I can go with you," Jayson asked, unwilling to give up.
Finally, Sidney looked up again, her gaze cold, sending a chill down Jayson's spine. It was the Sidney who had no warmth or enthusiasm. "I've already told you, I don't want to go out!"
Sidney emphasized the tone, showing clear impatience.
"Do you think I'm bothering you while you're reading?" he asked, his voice softer.
"...Yes."
He gave an awkward laugh, "Alright, then I'll leave."
Jayson closed the book in his hands, not even sure what its title was, and walked out of the study back to the room.
He looked at the empty master bedroom and, for the first time, wondered how this home could feel so lonely even with Sidney here.
He didn't know how to enter her closed heart, only feeling that Sidney was drifting further away, growing more impatient with him. Even a single word or sentence from him seemed to irritate her.
The next day, he still tried to please her by ordering a bouquet of flowers, hoping to surprise Sidney and make her happy. After checking the time, the flowers should have been delivered, but Jayson didn't receive a thank you call or message from Sidney. He decided to call her himself, and the phone rang for a long time before she answered, with Sidney's impatient tone on the other end.
"Hello?"
"Did you receive the flowers?" he asked gently.
"I received them."
Her voice on the other end was cold, like that of a stranger.
"Do you like them?" He had ordered eighty-eight roses, with the flower language symbolizing the intent to make up for all past mistakes.
"Don't waste your money." There was no trace of happiness in Sidney's tone.
"'If it makes you happy, then it's not a waste," he continued, his voice still soft as he tried to please her.
"I don't like them. You'd be better off donating the money to the abused children's charity," she said, feeling annoyed with him.
"Oh, alright."
Sidney hung up the phone.
Jayson felt as though he had been splashed with cold water, but he didn't give up. He immediately instructed Mr. Smith to donate a sum to the abused children's charity. That evening, he handed the receipt to Sidney. She didn't take it, merely glanced at the details on the receipt, said nothing, showed no expression, and simply grunted before going to bed.
Now she had resumed her habit of needing the lights off to sleep. Jayson went along with it, knowing she needed time.
