Downstairs, a sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up, its polished surface reflecting the morning sun and drawing the curious gazes of early risers in the modest neighborhood.

Nancy returned from the market, her arms full of groceries. She paused for a moment, glancing at the luxury car. It looked familiar, but she shook off the thought. Perhaps a wealthy relative is visiting a neighbor, she mused as she headed toward the elevator.

When she opened the door to her apartment, she froze in the entryway.

Just like before, Michael Thomas was sitting in his wheelchair in the center of her small living room.

"Mr. Thomas?" Nancy stammered, setting the groceries on the counter. "Elizabeth said you were still recovering. Is your fever gone? Should you be out of the hospital so soon?"

Michael looked momentarily overwhelmed by Nancy’s genuine motherly concern. He wasn't used to such unsolicited kindness. Elizabeth, sitting on the sofa nearby, couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of the usually unflappable CEO looking so flustered.

The sound of her laughter seemed to steady him. Michael propped himself up with his hands, exerting a clear effort to stand from his wheelchair. He bowed slightly to Nancy. "I came here specifically to visit you... Mother."

The title startled both women, but Michael’s gaze remained determined.

Nancy quickly hurried over to help him sit back down. "Your leg is injured; please, don't strain yourself. Have some water first."

As Michael sipped the water, an awkward silence filled the tiny apartment. The ancient furniture and cramped space made his tailored suit and imposing presence feel entirely out of place.

"Michael," Nancy began cautiously, "I hope you can understand a mother’s heart. Your marriage with Elizabeth... it hasn't been an easy path. She’s expressed a desire for a divorce, and as her mother, I only want her to be happy. If a split is inevitable, is it wise to prolong the pain for both of you?"

Michael looked at Nancy, his eyes reflecting a rare vulnerability. "I have no intention of divorcing Elizabeth. I believe that, given time, her heart will change as well."

The room went silent again. Sensing the heavy atmosphere, Nancy stood up. "I’ll go to the kitchen and prepare some breakfast. You two should talk calmly."

Once the sound of the range hood filled the air, Elizabeth stood up. She felt a bit restless under Michael’s intense gaze. "What is there for us to talk about?" she asked, habitually picking up the glass on the coffee table to take a sip of water.

She didn't realize it was the same glass Michael had just used. Michael watched her, a ghost of a smile touching his lips, but he remained silent.

"You stay here," Elizabeth said, her bad mood from being woken up early returning. "I’m going back to my room to catch up on sleep."

She retreated to her bedroom and lay down, hoping for a few minutes of peace. However, a moment later, the mattress sank beside her.

Elizabeth turned her head to find Michael sitting on the edge of her bed, having followed her in.

"Michael! What are you doing?" she whispered, trying to keep her voice down so her mother wouldn't hear.

Michael took off his suit jacket and lay down beside her, his presence suddenly filling the small room. Before Elizabeth could move away, he reached out and gently but firmly drew her closer, his arm resting protectively over her.

Elizabeth struggled, trying to maintain some distance. "Michael, this is too close. Let go."

Michael closed his eyes, his voice low and raspy near her ear. "Elizabeth, stay still for a moment. My leg is still healing. If you keep moving like that, you might tear the stitches."

The mention of his injury made Elizabeth freeze. She didn't want to be the cause of him heading back to the emergency room. She settled into the narrow space, her heart racing as she felt the steady rhythm of his breathing.

"Then loosen your grip," she muttered, looking up at him. "You’re acting like I’m going to run away."

Michael didn't loosen his hold. Instead, he seemed to exhale a long-held breath, finding a rare moment of peace in the quiet room. "Maybe," he whispered, "I'm just making sure you're still here."