Chapter 287: Oscar Washed Hannah’s Feet

Hannah watched Miguel and Michelle’s car disappear. She turned to leave with Oscar, but he grasped her hand.

Hannah frowned. "Yes?"

"I just… I want to be like your parents," Oscar said bluntly. "Hold your hand, grow old with you."

Hannah was speechless. He led her to his car. The city’s neon lights shimmered, a mirage in the stillness of the night. Hannah wondered if her life, or even her past life, was real. A sudden, inexplicable tightness gripped her heart as Oscar brought her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it.

"I always feel this happiness is God's blessing," Oscar murmured, a hint of worry in his voice.

Hannah didn't withdraw her hand. She felt the softness of his lips, then looked away, gazing out the window. She felt his anxieties mirrored in her own heart.

They arrived at the villa. Jimmy opened the car door. Oscar scooped Hannah into his arms.

"I can walk," she protested.

"I know," he replied, carrying her inside.

Max greeted them. "Max, send some desserts to our room."

"Yes, Master Oscar."

Oscar carried Hannah to their room and gently placed her on the bed. "Don't move," he urged.

Confused, tired, and wanting only a shower, Hannah obeyed. She heard the water running in the bathroom. Was he hogging the bathroom? She inwardly scoffed at his childishness. Then, he emerged, scooped her up again.

"Oscar, what are you doing?"

"Taking you to bathe."

"I can walk myself!" Hannah felt a surge of nervousness. They had an agreement: intimacy only after his success. He shouldn't break their pact!

"Didn't you ask me to take care of you?" Oscar's voice held a clear understanding of her resistance. Hannah was shocked; she'd never considered relying on anyone since her rebirth.

"You told your father," he reminded her.

Hannah recalled her earlier, almost thoughtless, statement about Oscar's care.

"I’ll take good care of you," he said solemnly, his voice a promise. Hannah wanted to object, but couldn't. His quiet intensity always rendered her speechless, a fear of hurting him weighing on her.

He set her down in the bathroom and closed the door.

Hannah bathed and removed her makeup. Oscar, already showered and in navy pajamas, had traded his formal hairstyle for a casual, boyish look that made him somehow… cute.

"Am I good-looking?" he asked without looking up from his phone.

Hannah rolled her eyes. No one was more shameless than Oscar. As she reached for the bed, he spoke.

"Sit on the sofa first."

What now? It was late. Couldn't he just let her sleep?

"Tomorrow's Sunday. Sleep in."

Too tired to argue, Hannah obeyed. Then she saw him return with a basin of warm water.

Surprised, she watched him squat and gently place her feet in the basin.

"I just showered, I washed my feet," Hannah said, bewildered.

"It's a foot soak," he corrected. "Not for warmth, but to relieve fatigue, improve circulation."

He began to massage her feet.

"It tickles!" Hannah giggled, trying to pull her feet away.

"It'll stop."

But it didn't. Her laughter escalated into unrestrained mirth.

"Oscar, stop! It tickles! Ha-ha-ha…" She suspected torture rather than a massage.

Oscar looked hurt. He'd meant to comfort her, not annoy her.

Hannah’s laughter subsided, tears replacing the mirth. Oscar's expression softened, and he released her feet.

"I didn't mean to refuse, it really tickles!" Hannah explained.

Oscar's serious expression persisted. She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you for the foot massage. Your reward."

His expression finally eased. "Don't laugh next time," he said seriously.

Would there be a next time? He could have shown his care in a hundred other ways. Why the foot soak?