She couldn't help but touch the clothes affectionately as she put them in the closet.

Suddenly, Dylan embraced her from behind. Olivia struggled and whispered, “Leave me alone. Otherwise, I'll call out!"

Dylan just held her tightly, remaining silent for a long time.

Sensing something was wrong, Olivia, who knew him well, asked with concern, “What's wrong?"

In a low voice, Dylan said, "Your dad is getting old, and the result of his medical report doesn't look good. He needs to be hospitalized and treated." He then handed the report to Olivia.

Under the soft light of the bedside lamp, Olivia read the medical report repeatedly.

Her hands trembled as she clutched the report tightly.

After a long while, she placed it on the dresser and sat down slowly.

Dylan put his arm around her shoulder, offering gentle comfort.

Trying not to disturb her parents, Olivia sobbed quietly.

This was the last thing she wanted for her father. Being diagnosed with such an illness at his age, the treatment seemed more like torture.

Thinking of this, she cried with restraint, fearing that Cecilia would be devastated if she found out.

The sun gradually descended behind the horizon.

As the light in the bedroom came on, it revealed Olivia's swollen eyes. At that moment, Eason woke up and began to cry loudly, startling both of them.

Dylan patted Olivia on the shoulder and said gently, “I'll get him. Go and wash your face, or your mom will get suspicious."

Olivia nodded.

In truth, she loved Mark deeply, and it was impossible for her to hide her sadness. During dinner, Olivia forced a smile at the table.

When she looked at Mark, her eyes were filled with affection.

Noticing this, Mark teased, "What's going on, sweetheart? Regretting not taking me out shopping with you this afternoon, maybe?"

Hearing his teasing, Olivia couldn't hold back her tears any longer, and they almost spilled down her cheeks.

Fearing she might lose composure, she hurried to the bathroom.

“Did you two have another argument?" Edwin turned to Dylan and inquired.

Dylan's smile was bitter. “Yes, another spat, right before dinner."

Mark expressed concern, “Why don't you go and comfort her? She should at least finish her meal. Afterwards, you two can sort out whatever you need to."