<b>hapter </b><b>185 </b>


    ? . 31%?


    45


    They had been strict about sweets, afraid I would get cavities, so I was never allowed to have candy. But I still craved something sweet, and when I wanted candy, they would give me a piece of dates instead.


    After my parents passed away, I neverined about bitter medicine again–because there was no one left to give me a piece of dates. And from that day on, I never ate it again.


    “It is really sweet,” Josh said, lifting the dates a little closer, even brushing it against <i>my </i>lips as if trying to tempt <ol><li>me. </li></ol>


    In the end, I opened my mouth. But the moment the sweetness touched my tongue<i>, </i>tears welled up in my eyes


    and spilled over.


    “Why are you crying?” he asked softly, wiping away my tears with his hand.


    He should not have said anything. The more he spoke, the worse I felt, and the harder it was <i>to </i>stop crying.


    Josh could barely keep up with wiping my tears. Eventually, he took the ss from my hand, gently squeezed my fingers, and reassured me, “If you hate the medicine that much, then do not take it.”


    He got up and left. I buried my face in my hands.


    After crying for a while, I felt much better. At that moment, the thermometer beeped, signaling that it had finished


    measuring my temperature.


    I took it out and it showed 38.2°C.


    So I really did have a fever.


    Josh returned, holding a towel wrapped around something.


    “Let us lower your temperature with ice first. Drink more hot waterter. If your fever goes down, you will not have


    to take the medicine,” he said, lifting my legs and easing me into a lying position on the sofa.


    He ced the ice–wrapped towel on my forehead and spoke softly, “Close your eyes and get some rest.”


    I did as he said, but before long, I heard the sound of a lighter. Then, the air filled with the scent of rubbing alcohol.


    The next moment, warmth spread across my palm. Josh was rubbing it gently. Instinctively, I tried to pull away, but he murmured, “I am using alcohol to lower your temperature.”


    I knew this method–my dad had done the same for me when I was little.


    But it was a little scary. He had to dip his hands in heated alcohol and rub them warm.


    I stayed still, letting him rub my left palm, then my right. Just as I thought he was done, his hands wrapped around my foot.


    <b>1/3 </b>


    13:02 Thu, 21 Aug 9


    I immediately pulled my foot back and refused, “That is not necessary.”


    “What happened to your bravery? You were ready to strip me before–now you are afraid of me touching your foot?” Josh’s words made my mind go nk.


    I wanted to y dead, to pretend I had no memory of it.


    But I knew–if he could say it out loud, then he was certain I remembered everything.


    At this moment, silence was the best strategy. So I shut my eyes and ignored him.


    His hands rubbed my sole, warm and ticklish, sending heat straight to my heart.


    <b>31</b>%


    Today, Josh made me feel as if my parents were still here. He made me feel warm–and also incredibly sad. Tears


    slid silently from the corners of my eyes.


    “Get some rest. I made some oatmeal. Have some when you wake up,” he said, getting up to leave.


    “Josh,” I called after him, watching his back. “Did we know each other before?”


    Today, he gave me too many glimpses of my childhood. He felt like family, like a reflection of my parents taking


    care of me.


    He hesitated for a moment as if answering me–but I did not hear it.


    I fell asleep and dreamed of my parents, holding my hands, coaxing me to take my medicine, giving me dates, and rubbing my palms and feet.


    “Dad… Mom…” I murmured, reaching out to grab their hands.?


    “Zoey, time to eat.” But instead of my parents‘ voices, I heard Josh’s voice in my ear.


    I did not want to wake up. In my dream, I clung tightly to my parents and begged, “Mom, Dad, please do not go…


    do not leave Zoey behind…”


    “I will not. I will always stay by your side.” It was Josh’s voice again.


    At that moment, I truly resented him. I thought, ‘I just wanted to talk to my parents–why did he keep interrupting?‘


    “Josh, get lost!” I snapped at him. And then–I woke up.


    My hand was tightly gripping Josh’s. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and in that brief moment of eye contact, I saw the pain hidden deep within them…