She Quit Her Family and Found Herself novel Chapter 97

Hulda stood silently in the doorway, the food tray perfectly balanced in her hands, her eyes fixed heavily on the hand Sylvie had wrapped around Miles'.

Catching the look, Sylvie snatched her hand back as if she had just been burned. Like a child caught stealing candy, she scrambled to her feet in a fluster. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Jewell. I heard Miles was sick and wanted to see me, so I came over. I didn't know you were here. If I had known, I wouldn't have come."

This act again.

Every single time there was a Jewell family member in the room, Sylvie morphed into this fragile, persecuted victim whenever she faced her.

Hulda saw right through it, and she found it utterly exhausting. More than anything, she was just incredibly sick of it.

Right on cue, Cora jumped up from her seat and aggressively shoved Sylvie back down onto the edge of the bed.

Then, she whipped around and glared at Hulda like a protective attack dog. "I'm the one who called her over, what about it? Miles said he missed her, so I told her to come. Do you have a problem with that?"

Seeing Sylvie look so frightened, Miles' eyes instantly reddened. Terrified that his mother was going to bully Sylvie, he quickly piped up to defend her. "It... it was me! I missed Sylvie, so Aunt Cora called her! Don't bully Sylvie, Mom!"

In reality, he hadn't missed her that much today. He knew he'd see her as soon as he recovered and went back to his father's house anyway. It was Aunt Cora who had made the phone call and insisted she come over.

But he couldn't stand the thought of his mother being mean to Sylvie, so he felt he had to protect her.

"Oh, Miles..." Sylvie whispered, her eyes welling with grateful tears as she reached out to clasp his chubby little hand again.

Cora stood fiercely in front of the bed, guarding Sylvie and Miles like a mother hen protecting her chicks. From her aggressive posture, one would think Hulda had walked in wielding a knife.

It was impossible not to feel a sharp ache in her chest watching this scene unfold. Hulda tightened her grip on the edge of the tray and stepped into the room. "Miles, your food is ready. Time to eat."

The little boy, who had just been terrified for Sylvie's safety, instantly tossed all his worries out the window at the mention of his mother's cooking. "Okay, okay! I want to eat!"

He was completely famished. He had felt terrible since arriving at school that morning and hadn't touched a bite of lunch. By the afternoon, the fever, diarrhea, and vomiting had set in. After spending the rest of the day getting IV drips at the hospital, his stomach was completely hollow.

As Hulda stepped closer, Sylvie reached out, offering to take the tray, her eyes brimming with forced innocence. "Mrs. Jewell, why don't I feed him? He missed me so much, I'd like to spend a little more time with him."

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