Chapter 353: Where Is My Dignity?

+5 Pearls

Alexander, though outwardly composed, was deeply moved that Isabella, even in her intoxicated state, still thought of him. Just as he leaned to kiss her, she lifted her head, bumping his forehead. He touched her forehead helplessly as she murmured, "It's bath time I can't move. Can you bathe me, Hubby?" Alexander was stunned.

Despite their relationship's progress, bathing her while she was unconscious felt inappropriate—too intimate. He contacted his sisters, hoping for help.

Their family group chat (excluding the couple) exploded:

Can you believe it? Alex asked me to help bathe his wife!

David: That useless man!

Selena: How did I end up with a son like him?

Christopher: Bella's clearly giving him a chance! Don't you dare help him.

Ignoring the message, the sisters remained silent. Alexander waited in vain. Isabella, hot and uncomfortable, began undressing. He finally gave up contacting his sisters. As he prepared to help Isabella, he was captivated.

Moonlight illuminated her delicate skin. Her beautiful, bare form attempted to rise from the bed. Stunned, Alexander only reacted when she stumbled, catching her before she fell. He felt a warm sensation in his nose—blood. She struggled in his arms, crying, "I need a bath! Now! I'm so uncomfortable!"

Overwhelmed, Alexander maintained his composure, carrying her to the bathroom. His disheveled reflection—reddened face, bleeding nose—met his gaze. His body reacted at the sight of his wife. Even while bathing her, she was relentless.

Ultimately, Alexander, being human, succumbed. He pressed her against the cold wall and kissed her passionately.

Isabella awoke at midday with a throbbing head but a refreshed body. Finding Alexander gone, she saw his message: Lionel had summoned him. He'd return once she woke.

Isabella scoffed. Did she look like a child needing collecting?

Rising, her nightgown slipped. Only in the bathroom, toothbrush in mouth, did she remember last night's events. A wave of heat washed over her.

They had been there… right there…

The lingering kiss was less significant than Alexander's simultaneous self-gratification, his breathing drowning out the shower. In her drunken state, she'd reacted minimally. Now, recalling the incident, her face burned.

Her inner monologue played out: Dmn! Can he not perform? I was completely naked, and he chose to relieve himself? Where is my dignity?*

Alexander, feeling he'd already disrespected her, reflected on his behavior. When Isabella turned, seeing her husband's shy, gentle gaze silenced her inner turmoil.