Yehua continued quietly, her tone calm but cutting.
“And when they’re hospitalized, it’s us—your employees—who have to help bring them food. Aren’t you exhausted, boss? Don’t you get frustrated? I think you are, but you just won’t admit it.”
She gave him a knowing look. “You say you hate it when I help my family, but you’re no different. You can’t resist helping yours either. You keep giving in because deep down, you like being seen as capable—the successful son who makes his parents proud.”
She hesitated, then added softly, “Don’t be angry, boss. You and I… we’re the same kind of people. That’s why we understand each other. Dr. Pollock’s family is wealthy, educated, and self-sufficient. She doesn’t need to help anyone. She can’t relate to people like us, who have entire families depending on us.”
“She might tolerate it once or twice,” Yehua went on, “but not forever. Compatibility matters in love—it’s not just a cliché. You and Dr. Pollock are from different worlds. Even if you forced it, it wouldn’t last. A forced melon isn’t sweet.”
Her words were gentle, but they hit hard. “You think you love her, but part of it is pride. You want to marry Dr. Pollock so your relatives will admire you even more. You imagine her helping you arrange better doctors for your hometown folks, letting your parents brag about how capable their son is.”
She sighed. “You tell me my brothers aren’t my responsibility. Fine, they aren’t. But are your siblings yours? Haven’t you been supporting them for years? You send money to your parents and help your brothers and sisters every month. You use nearly a third of your clinic’s income to subsidize them.”
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