?Chapter 1253:


    In the hospital, Ralphy’s forehead creased with concern as he asked softly, “Still hurts?”


    “Not too bad,” Davina replied, biting back the dull throb in her arm.


    “Don’t let the wound get wet. And try not to mess with it,” Ralphy reminded gently.


    “Alright,” Davina said with a nod.


    Ralphy paused, then confessed, “I told Christina you got hurt.”


    Davina shot him a sharp look. “Why’d you tell her? It’s not a big deal. Now she’s gonna worry for no reason.”


    “I get it. You didn’t want her to stress. But once you’re back, she’ll know anyway,” Ralphy said, clearly uneasy.


    Davina stayed quiet, lips tight, then pulled out her phone to call Christina and tell her not to freak out.


    “She’s probably already on her way here. No need to call,” Ralphy said, gently pressing her hand down.


    Davina looked up, her face suddenly distant and cold. Her mouth opened, then closed again. She had words, but didn’t say them.


    Deep down, Davina knew he was right. Living with Christina meant the bandaged arm wouldn’t stay a secret for long. And if Christina found out she’d kept it from her, she’d be pissed.


    In the hospital lobby, Christina hurried in, scanning the signs and heading straight to the spot Ralphy had told her about. As she pushed through the crowd, an old woman nearby stood up, squinting hard and locking eyes with her. In that moment, the old woman saw her own mother in Christina, especially in the shape of her face.


    Her eyes welled up, like she’d just seen her mothere back to life, young and glowing, in a dreamlike haze.


    The old woman leaned heavily on her walking stick and hurried forward as fast as she could, her heart pounding with excitement.


    She’d only taken a few steps when a familiar voice called out from behind.


    g?lnσν????s?c?m fuels your imagination


    “Grandma!” a young woman shouted, sounding worried. She had long, bright red hair, a vivid color as bold and striking as a bright-red rose.


    She was beautiful, and with that vivid red hair, she caught everyone’s attention the moment she showed up.


    “Ophelia…” The old woman smiled warmly, lifted her wrinkled hand, and gently took her granddaughter’s hand in hers. When she turned back to look at the spot where Christina had been standing, the figure who’d reminded her of her mother was already gone.


    Her eyes, red-rimmed and wet with tears, searched frantically back and forth, but she couldn’t find anything.


    A sharp pang of sadness hit the old woman’s heart, and tears suddenly spilled down her cheeks.


    When people got old and their eyesight started failing, they often saw the shadows of loved ones who’d passed away in the faces of strangers.


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