Chapter 2
It didn’t seem like a big deal.
But Mrs. Taylor gave me a knowing look, said nothing, and left.
I was completely confused.
I decided not to take Mrs. Taylor’s words to heart.
As long as I appeared conscientious in front of others, that was enough.
I returned to the ward to feed the young lady.
She was indeed quite picky.
Not only did she want me to feed her, but she also nitpicked:
“Oh, I don’t eat onions.”
“Why aren’t there any drumsticks? Asher must have eaten them.”
“I’ll give him a piece of my mind when I get back.”
I coaxed her while feeding her:
“Then you can’t be picky.”
“A balanced diet will make you strong enough to stand up to your brother.”
Hearing this, she widened her eyes at me:
“Aren’t you advising me to let Asher off the hook?”
I looked innocent:
“Why should you let him?”
She frowned:
“Everyone says it’s because I’m the older sister.”
With an indignant look on her face, she said:
“Why?”
“Yeah, why?”
I guided her:
“You’re a few years older than him and will always be.”
“Does that mean you have to let him have his way forever?”
Hearing this, she got interested, looking at me with shining eyes:
“Not bad, not bad, I like you.”
“From now on, you’re on my side.”
I found it amusing; she’s just a kid.
I figured out how to handle her.
As long as I hug her, tell her fairy tales, and agree with her.
This young lady isn’t so hard to please.
After three days in the hospital, the doctor confirmed she didn’t have a concussion and issued a discharge notice.
I took her home, where there was an invisible hostility towards her arrival.
Her mother frowned when she saw her, turned around, and left with her younger son.
Other maids whispered when they saw her.
Their eyes were full of undisguised disdain and disgust.
Just as she was about to throw her toy at someone, I quickly grabbed her hand.
I squatted down and gently advised:
“Don’t you love the little rabbit?”
“If you throw the rabbit, it will get hurt.”
Hearing this, she quickly hugged the rabbit, stroking it continuously.
I sighed inwardly, feeling sorry for her and worried she’d cause trouble and implicate me.
I heard that whenever she caused trouble, a maid would be fired.
I took her to her room.
Because she previously burned her own room, she now lived in a narrow, windowless utility room.
There was no light, and it had a strange smell.
No exaggeration, my dorm was much better.
Oddly, she showed no discomfort but placed her rabbit toy on the bed.
Carefully covering the rabbit with a blanket.
I opened my suitcase and tidied up her room.
A voice came from above, sounding uneasy:
“This is my mom’s punishment for burning the room.”
“When she calms down, she’ll let me move back to my original room.”
“She doesn’t dislike me.” I looked up at the little girl.
She tried to act indifferent, not looking at me.
But she was gripping the blanket tightly.
I pretended not to see her stubbornness, casually saying:
“Yeah, yeah, as long as you know it was wrong.”
“Burning the room is dangerous. If something happened to you, how would your mom cope?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her sigh in relief.
I think she also needed someone to affirm that her mom loved her, right?