Chapter 102 The Nursing Home
“What?” Lola sounded shocked. “What nonsense are you talking about? The truth is you’re shameless and throwing yourself at Byron!”
“I’m telling the truth,” Athena said, her patience wearing thin. “If you don’t believe me, go and see for yourself. I would be grateful if you could convince your son to stop harassing me!”
Without waiting for a response, she hung up.
Evie, who had been sitting nearby, stared at Athena with her mouth wide open in disbelief. After a moment of stunned silence, she blurted, “That was so cool! You really put her in her place!”
Athena let out a soft, helpless laugh. “You heard it. I have to go see Mrs. Alivia Crawford. You go take care of your own things. And don’t overthink it.”
Evie pouted. “You’re not a maid for the Crawfords. Why are you going to see her anyway?”
“She’s different,” Athena said gently, her fingers curling slightly in her palm. “When I’m with her… sometimes, I can feel my grandma.”
Evie’s heart clenched. She stepped forward and hugged Athena tightly, tears slipping down her cheeks again.
She had heard from Baxter about what Athena had gone through five years ago. The loneliness, the helplessness—she could only imagine the kind of pain Athena had endured. It moved her deeply.
Athena quietly comforted her before heading out.
She drove toward the nursing home on the outskirts of the city. On the way, she passed a small fruit shop. The strawberries on display were plump and glistening with freshness. Remembering how much Madam Crawford liked them, she stopped and bought a box.
When she arrived at the nursing home, the old lady had just woken up from her afternoon nap. She was in a grumpy mood, arguing childishly with the nurse over something trivial.
“Miss Newton is here!” the nurse called out in relief when she saw Athena.
She sounded like she was about to cry from gratitude.
“Mrs. Alivia Crawford, look who’s come to visit you!”
Madam Crawford turned her head—and her face lit up instantly.
“Athena! You’re here!”
Athena smiled warmly and walked over, squatting down in front of her. “Let me see which lovely lady has been making trouble again today?”
“Not me!” Madam Crawford declared with exaggerated innocence.
The nurse let out a long breath, clearly relieved.
The old lady took Athena’s hand excitedly. Athena, still holding the box of strawberries in her right hand, let the older woman grasp her left.
But as soon as Madam Crawford saw her hand, her expression changed.
Athena instinctively tried to pull back, but Madam Crawford clutched it tightly and burst into tears. “You’re hurt! You got hurt!”
Athena froze for a moment, then tried to calm her. “It’s nothing serious. Look—I brought you something.”
Trying to shift her attention, she showed the strawberries.
Madam Crawford sobbed a little more, but her gaze settled on the strawberries and her tears slowly stopped.
“I’ll go wash some!” the nurse said quickly, grateful for the distraction. She selected a few of the largest and juiciest berries, rinsed and dried them, then returned with them.
Athena picked one and gently fed it to the old lady.
Madam Crawford bit into it and smiled with satisfaction. “Sweet!”
After two strawberries, her mood had lifted.
Athena finally breathed a little easier.
But unexpectedly, Madam Crawford held her injured hand again, looked at it pitifully, then raised it to her lips and blew gently on it like a child comforting a friend.
Athena was stunned.
The old woman’s wrinkled hand reached up and softly patted the top of her head.
“I’ll be very gentle. It won’t hurt, I promise.”
Athena’s eyes turned red instantly.
She rested her cheek gently on Madam Crawford’s lap, which was covered by a thin blanket.
“It really doesn’t hurt anymore…”
In the corner, the nurse blinked away her own tears.
The Crawfords had a big family. They gave Madam Crawford the best care money could buy. But none of them were as close to her as Athena was.
The afternoon sun shone warmly through the windows—bright, but not harsh.
Later, Athena helped Madam Crawford into her wheelchair and wheeled her outside. They found a quiet spot in the garden where she could read to her.
Sometimes, Madam Crawford’s thoughts were scattered. But she loved having someone read to her.
Moments like this were rare—and precious.
As Athena turned a page, a child’s voice called out.
“Miss!”
A little girl came running over, cheeks flushed.
Athena closed the book and smiled. “What’s wrong?”
“My ball fell in the water. Can you help me get it?” the girl asked, her voice full of innocence.
Athena’s gaze softened. She thought of the baby growing inside her, imagining the day it might speak to her in such a sweet, childlike voice.
The thought warmed her from the inside.