Chapter 2208

Chelsea lunged forward, throwing her arms around Phoebe and breaking into grateful laughter. “Mom, you’re amazing. Thank you,” she breathed against her shoulder.

Off to the side, Cecilia watched the tender exchange, a quiet ache spreading through her chest.

If only my mother were still here.

Phoebe stroked Chelsea’s back in slow, soothing circles. “All I ask is that you never regret your choice,” she whispered.

Chelsea gave a faint smile, then lifted her head, her expression turning serious.

“I can’t promise I’ll never regret it,” she said, her gaze steady. “People change. Feelings change. I can’t promise he’ll always treat me well. I can’t even promise I won’t misjudge him. But I can promise this: right now, he’s good to me. And right now, I’m truly happy.”

Hearing that, Phoebe found herself speechless. All that remained in her eyes was a fragile, silent hope.

From the moment a woman becomes a mother, one wish anchors her heart—that her daughter will move through life unburdened, bright-eyed, laughter spilling like sunlight, loved and unmistakably happy.

Phoebe smoothed Chelsea’s hair, her voice warm but firm. “Good. That’s what I needed to hear. Now finish eating before the rice and soup get cold.”

Chelsea nodded. “Okay.”

The next few spoonfuls disappeared quickly. With every bite, relief lit her face—a relief that had been missing for days.

When the dishes were cleared, Phoebe stood and followed Cecilia toward the hallway. She clasped the young woman’s hands, gratitude shining in her eyes. “Ceci, we’ve taken up enough of your time today. Thank you.”

“Really, it’s no trouble at all,” Cecilia replied lightly, almost teasing. “Jason called earlier to ask about Chelsea. I just told him you’d taken her home. I didn’t mention the injury.”

Cecilia hadn’t known it was a car accident either.

Phoebe nodded thoughtfully. “I understand. I’ll explain everything to him. Thank you, dear.”

They spoke for a few more minutes before work called Cecilia away. With a final wave, she stepped into the elevator, leaving mother and daughter alone.

Phoebe tucked the blanket around Chelsea’s waist. “Rest, sweetheart. I’ll go home and talk to your father about you and Jason.” She kissed her forehead before hurrying down the corridor.

When Kingston heard that Phoebe had finally relented and agreed to let their daughter date Jason, he leaned back in his chair, stunned.

“You were the one completely against him before. What changed?” Kingston asked, still trying to process it.

Phoebe let out a long breath. “I can tell she’s given him her whole heart. The more we forbid it, the deeper she’ll fall. People always value what they’re told they can’t have.”

He understood the reasoning, but the thought of another man walking away with his precious girl felt like handing a rare orchid to a stranger.

Kingston rubbed his temples. “Fine. We’ll leave it at that for now. But when Chelsea has children, they have to carry the Rainsworth name.”

Phoebe hesitated. “I’m not sure Jason would agree to that.”

“Then we’ll ask him,” Kingston said, already reaching for his phone.

He called Jason, told him to visit Chelsea at the hospital, and added—almost casually—that they had something important to discuss.

The moment Jason heard Chelsea was hurt, he dropped everything, grabbed his car keys, and sped toward the hospital, his heartbeat pounding louder than the engine.

At the hospital, Chelsea finished her meal.

She tried to swing her legs over the side of the bed, craving a short walk, but her strength wouldn’t cooperate.

Her right leg was locked in a stark white cast—stiff, heavy—turning even a trip to the bathroom into a small ordeal.

When nature called, she had no choice but to press the call button for a nurse’s aide.

Heat crept up her cheeks. Being cared for by strangers still felt invasive, almost humiliating. As she debated whether to wait it out, a soft knock sounded at the door.

Chelsea raised her voice. “Who is it?”

The door opened slowly, revealing Jason’s anxious face framed by the hallway light.

“Chelsea!” He rushed inside, dread written all over him. Hurrying to her bedside, he asked, “What happened? How did it get this bad?”

“It’s complicated,” Chelsea said, smoothing her expression into something close to normal. “Really—stop worrying. I’m okay now.”

But the tight crease between his brows said he would never stop worrying.

“By the way,” she added, tilting her head, “how did you even know I was here?”

“Your dad called,” Jason replied, the words landing between them like distant thunder.