Chapter 1142: Depression

Theodore examined Little Bunny's finger. "Does it hurt?" he asked worriedly.

Little Bunny shook her head. "It's okay. I think it just scratched me."

She rinsed the cut under the faucet.

Theodore realized she found his saliva disgusting, just as she had disliked his touch on those nights. He imagined her wanting to wash away all trace of him.

Despite her aversion, she'd endured it for so long. He’d assumed her dislike was merely pretense. He was wealthy, influential, and handsome; associating with him was advantageous in the entertainment industry.

Was he too arrogant?

Since reuniting with Little Bunny, he’d gradually recognized her disgust and rejection. Perhaps it had always been there, unnoticed due to his inattentiveness.

Now, it was clear.

He averted his gaze. "Do you want to sterilize it and put on a bandage?"

"No need. It's fine."

The wound wasn't deep, the bleeding had stopped, and she felt little pain.

"I'll chop the vegetables," Theodore offered.

"I'll handle it. You can wait for dinner," Little Bunny declined, feeling his presence intrusive. If not for his mention of Addison, she wouldn't have cut herself.

Had Theodore noticed something? How had Addison's name come up?

Little Bunny dared not ask. She feared any explanation would incriminate her.

Seeing Little Bunny concentrating on chopping vegetables, with no inclination to talk, Theodore left the kitchen. He sat on the sofa, feeling profoundly depressed. Knowing Little Bunny disliked him and their relationship was strained, he wondered why he persisted. He realized he'd changed.

"I'm going out," he announced, leaving without looking back.

"You haven't had lunch," she called after him.

"I don't feel like eating," he replied, offering no further explanation.

"Be careful," she said, choosing not to pry.

His cold laugh betrayed his displeasure at her detachment. A casual attempt at persuasion might have kept him, but she clearly wanted him gone.

After Theodore left, Little Bunny lost her appetite, settling for a fruit salad. Alone in the living room, she felt the emptiness of the space.

Theodore hadn't driven away; he merely needed air, depressed by Little Bunny's tolerance rather than affection. He couldn't bring himself to argue; a fight might drive her away entirely.

Yet, outside, his mind was filled with her disdain and indifference. How could he make her love him? What did it take to win her?

Overwhelmed, he called Susan.

"What's wrong? Did you break up?" Susan teased.

"Can you be nice for once?"

"I was right?"

"No! We didn't break up."

"You wouldn't call if everything was fine," Susan replied confidently. "Did you watch Little Bunny's movie?"

"Yeah," Theodore sighed. He regretted it; it had disgusted him.

"Didn't you notice Little Bunny and Addison's feelings for each other?" Susan pressed.

Theodore realized he'd called for trouble.

He gritted his teeth. "Is there any way to make her like me?"

Susan's unkind laughter was excessive. Manuel, watching TV, was speechless at Theodore's audacity in seeking Susan's help; she only played matchmaker for amusement, not genuine relationships.

"Susan, be serious! I'm not in a good mood. You wouldn't understand," Theodore snapped.

The events—seeing Little Bunny kissed by Addison, her showering after his touch, rinsing her finger after he’d sucked it—had broken him.

Susan, her laughter fading, said, "I understand. When Manuel was with others, I almost died. But our relationship is different. Even when we hurt each other, we love each other. Little Bunny doesn't love you. Everyone sees it except you. You're making things difficult for her, forcing her to do things she doesn't want. Let her go, let her pursue her love freely. Otherwise, she'll sneak around with Addison."

She paused for breath. "Suddenly, I feel sorry for Little Bunny."