Mira glanced at him, her mind racing. How far would he go for Vera? He had stopped her from committing suicide over and over again. He was even holding a wedding for her, and now, on their own anniversary, he was taking her along.
Mira couldn’t help but wonder what drove him to such lengths.
"Where are your family members?" she asked, her gaze shifting to Vera in the rearview mirror.
Before Vera could respond, Elias cut in. "Don’t ask about that. Her parents divorced, remarried, and she was raised by her grandmother."
The answer left no room for further questioning. Mira fell silent.
Just then, her phone buzzed with a message from her senior.
Frederick Hale: "It’s not advisable to continue conservative treatment. It’s best to remove the tumor as soon as possible to prevent malignant transformation."
Frederick Hale: "In cases like this, Phileklen Hospital in the UK has stable and advanced technology. The post-op recovery is generally smooth. Johns Hopkins Hospital in Maryland is also good, but I heard their surgery schedule is booked for more than six months."
Frederick Hale: "Mira, amnesia is better than death. If you need the surgery, just let me know."
Mira quickly searched for Phileklen Hospital, realizing it was in the same city as her upcoming business trip next month.
She typed a reply: "Thank you, sir. I’ll think about it."
As the car pulled up to Cedarbrook Academy, the couple got out to visit their former teacher. When they returned, they found Vera waiting outside, holding three cups of milk tea.
Vera trotted over with a bright smile, holding out a cup to Elias. "Elias, this is yours—three parts sugar, regular ice, double coconut."
She then handed another cup to Mira. "Mira, I wasn't sure what you like, so I just picked one randomly. I hope it’s to your taste."
"Thank you," Mira said, accepting the cup, while Elias took both cups with a small nod. He noticed Vera poking the straw into her drink and asked seriously, "Why are you drinking it iced?"
He gently took the milk tea from her hand, his expression concerned. "Don’t you remember what happened last time? You’ll get a stomachache again."
Vera pouted, clearly unsatisfied. "It’s just a small sip..."
Mira handed her the room-temperature drink she was holding. "Drink this one. I don’t like milk tea," she said, stepping toward the car.