Patience Heart

Mr. Lee

I just finished my video call with Timmy. Seeing his concerned little face on the screen broke my heart a bit more. He had been worried ever since he found out I was hospitalized. Like usual, he was staying with Will and Diane, my unwavering support system. They always assured me not to worry, reminding me that they had everything under control. It helped ease my mind, even if just a little.

Suddenly, I heard a knock at the hospital room door. My heart skipped as I looked up to see Mr. Lee entering, a bright bucket of fresh sunflowers in his hands, their vibrant yellow petals almost radiating warmth. A smile broke across my face at the sight of the cheerful flowers.

"Hi, Ms. Turner," he said groggily, a hint of humor in his tone. "The florist said sunflowers are the best flowers to give to a patient."

I chuckled, the sound feeling good after so many heavy moments. There he was—Mathias Lee, the most sought-after bachelor at Chattame, always exuding confidence and composure as the CEO. Yet here he was, standing in front of me with that tired look, a little disheveled but still incredibly handsome.

Well, he wasn't exactly a bachelor. He had been married once, young and impulsively at twenty. It hadn't worked out, though. Now, even at over forty, he looked like he could easily pass for someone in their twenties, aside from the maturity reflected in his eyes—eyes that had seen both the highs and lows of life.

Mama Dee, ever the sage with her witty observations, often remarked that Mr. Lee would never find a woman to marry. "He's married to his work," she'd say with a knowing smile, a twinkle in her eye. To her, it was as clear as day. In Mr. Lee's eyes, all women seemed to blend into one collective annoyance, always demanding attention and validation. She'd joke that he should consider marrying a cat instead of a human—someone less clingy, more independent, and perhaps better suited to his detached lifestyle.

"Imagine him coming home to a cat that just sits there, indifferent to his every achievement," she'd laugh, shaking her head. "At least it wouldn't demand a constant stream of affection!"

It was a playful jab, but there was truth in her words. Mr. Lee had an air about him that suggested he thrived on solitude, his heart firmly chained to his ambitions. Yet, beneath that seemingly impenetrable exterior, I couldn't help but wonder if there was more to his story—a longing for connection that he hid behind his workaholic facade.

Mr. Lee, alongside Adam, shared a uniquely complicated relationship with Mama Dee. Their interactions often resembled the playful bickering of an old married couple, each trying to outwit the other in a battle of wits that was as entertaining as it was endearing. Mama Dee would throw a sharp remark his way, and he'd retort with a smirk, pretending to be annoyed while secretly reveling in the back-and-forth.

But beneath their playful jabs lay a foundation of mutual respect. I could see it in the way he'd soften his tone when she challenged him, or how he'd take her advice to heart even when he rolled his eyes in jest. Mama Dee had been with him since the beginning, guiding him through the rough patches of building Chattame and often reminding him that life was about more than just work.

"I might not be your mother, Mathias," she'd say with a sly grin, "but I sure can tell you when you're being a stubborn fool." And he'd chuckle, shaking his head, knowing she was right. Their relationship was a testament to the strength of their bond—a mix of camaraderie, respect, and the occasional spat that kept things lively.

In moments like this, I realized how much he valued her presence in his life, even if he'd never say it out loud. It was a reminder that even the most driven individuals needed anchors in their lives—someone to challenge them, support them, and keep them grounded.

As he set the vase on the desk next to my bed, I caught a glimpse of his physique—tall and well-built, the kind of body that suggested he took care of himself. Mathias was a man who had played a pivotal role in building Chattame into what it was today, and he had also been one of the key figures behind WellSecure, the parent company. Chattame had emerged from a drunken karaoke night filled with jokes among friends, and now it was one of the top three AI chat platforms used around the world.

He always provided insightful help during our brainstorming sessions for the redesign process. His questions, though short, were sharp and incisive, pinpointing any shortcomings in my work while also praising me for my successes. It was a delicate balance, but I appreciated his honesty.

After placing the sunflowers on the bedside table, he settled into the chair beside me. "Ms. Turner, how are you doing today?"

"I'm feeling better now," I replied, my voice steadier than I expected.

"Good to hear." There was a pause before he continued, a hint of hesitation in his demeanor. "Sorry for meddling, but I know you're not married..."

His tone suggested he was treading carefully, as if he wanted to offer support without overstepping. "You have enough on your plate without worrying about my personal life," I replied, the words slipping out before I could stop myself. I suddenly felt exposed, as if the vulnerability of my situation was laid bare before him.

"Not at all," he said, his brow furrowing slightly. "I care about my team, and you've been working so hard on the redesign. It's just... you seemed overwhelmed before all this happened."

"I guess I was," I admitted, looking down at the bright flowers. "Everything has been a bit much, especially after..." My voice trailed off, the shadow of Adam's absence creeping in.

"I can't imagine how tough it's been for you," Mr. Lee said softly, his gaze steady. "But I want you to know that you're not alone. We're all rooting for you here at Chattame."

His sincerity caught me off guard. I had always seen him as this untouchable figure, the one who made everything happen, but here he was, showing a side that felt unexpectedly human.

"Thank you, Mr. Lee. That means a lot," I replied, my heart warming slightly at his kindness.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "You know, I've always admired your dedication to your work. You've put your heart into this project, and it shows. That's rare."

A small blush crept to my cheeks, and I looked away, feeling both flattered and slightly embarrassed. "I just want to do my best for Chattame."

"And you are," he replied, his voice firm yet encouraging. "But remember, it's okay to take a step back and breathe. You've been juggling a lot, and you deserve some time to focus on yourself."

The weight of his words settled on me. I had spent so much time worrying about the project, about making everything perfect, that I had neglected my own well-being. "I guess I've been so focused on work that I didn't realize how run down I was."

He nodded, his expression sympathetic. "That's often the case with passionate people like you. Just know that it's okay to ask for help or lean on others when you need it."

As I processed his words, I felt a sense of gratitude wash over me. Mr. Lee had seen beyond my professional facade, recognizing my struggles. "I appreciate that. I'll try to keep it in mind," I said, allowing myself to feel a bit lighter.

He smiled, a genuine expression that transformed his features. "Good. And hey, if you need someone to help brainstorm ideas or if you want to talk about anything—work-related or not—don't hesitate to reach out."

"Thank you, Mr. Lee. That really means a lot to me," I said, feeling a new sense of connection. It was comforting to know I had support from unexpected places.

After a moment, he stood up, adjusting his jacket. "I'll let you rest, but remember, you have a team that believes in you."

"Thanks for the flowers, and for checking in on me," I said, watching him as he moved toward the door.

"Of course, Ms. Turner. Take care of yourself." With one last warm smile, he left the room, leaving me alone with the sunflowers and a feeling of hope I hadn't expected to feel today.

I glanced at the flowers, their bright yellow hues brightening the sterile hospital room. Maybe this was the start of something new—not just for my work but for my life as well. As I settled back into the pillows, I felt a flicker of determination rising within me. I would face whatever came next, one step at a time.