Secret Admiration: Finding True Love After...

Chapter 699 What I Should’ve Done

Speak of the devil, and he appeared. But seeing Chandler now didn’t exactly make Meryl happy. Yesterday, he wasn’t there when the accident happened. He wasn’t there when she was rushed into surgery. And this morning, when she woke up, he was still nowhere to be found.

Chandler had been absent on one of the most important days of Meryl’s life–a day when she had so much she wanted to say to him.

She wanted to tell him how terrified she’d been during the car accident, how stunned and shaken she felt when Felix shielded her from the oncoming car, and how, despite looking calm when she was wheeled into surgery, she’d been scared out of her mind, worried sick about their baby.

She thought that, as her husband and the father of her child, Chandler would understand what she’d been through. But now that the moment had passed, and he’d finally shown up, Meryl found that the urge to pour her heart out had vanished.

For a moment, she wondered if she was just being dramatic. After all, she was fine now. Her injuries weren’t that serious. It wasn’t like Rachel, who’d lost a kidney.

But Anne had told her she wasn’t wrong to feel this way. Expecting something from Chandler as her husband was perfectly normal. The fact that she’d come out of the accident relatively unscathed was just pure luck. Meryl thought about it and realized Anne was right.

Chandler was tall, broad-shouldered, and long-legged. The glow from the streetlights cast a shadow along the bridge of his nose. He was out of breath–it was clear he’d rushed over the moment he got out of the car.

His white shirt sleeves were stained with blood, his suit was dirty, and his usually sharp eyes were bloodshot. The always-dashing Chandler looked haggard tonight, even his unshaven jaw shadowed with a dull blue tint.

He looked utterly worn out. When their eyes met, Meryl only held his gaze for a few seconds before looking away. She turned around and walked back into the hospital room, reaching for the door to shut it behind her.

Chandler quickly stepped forward, catching the door with his hand. “Meryl,” he said.

Meryl pushed at the door with all her might, but of course, she couldn’t match his strength. She thought, “Fine. I am not in the mood to waste my energy.”

She turned away without a word, heading toward the bed. Before she could climb onto it, Chandler suddenly bent down and scooped her up. Startled, Meryl glared at him. “Chandler, what are you doing-”

His voice was hoarse as he cut her off. “Why aren’t you lying down? I wasn’t here, so you just stopped taking care of yourself? Don’t you know you’re still in recovery?”

“What’s it to you?” she shot back, her tone sharp. “I’ll do whatever I want. Go back to Rachel. Why did you even bother coming back?”

Chandler held her tightly, refusing to let her struggle free. His expression was unusually serious. “Stop moving. I don’t want you pulling your stitches.” He carefully set her down on the bed, making sure she was comfortable.

Meryl, too tired to argue anymore, lay still. Whether it was from the accident or just postpartum fatigue, her waist ached, and she felt completely drained.

After tucking the blanket around her, Chandler sat down on the edge of the bed. His eyes stayed fixed on her. “Rachel’s out of surgery. I’m sorry I was late.”

Meryl wanted to ask if Rachel was still alive. But then she thought, “Why should I care about a woman who’d repeatedly hurt me?”

Silence settled over the room. Chandler got up, poured a glass of water, and brought it to her. “Thirsty?” he asked.

Meryl frowned and said nothing.

When she didn’t take the glass, Chandler raised it to his lips and gulped down the water himself. Meryl watched, her brows furrowing slightly. She thought, “Has he been so busy all day that he didn’t even have time for a drink?”

Even in such a state, Chandler still carried himself with that natural grace. Some people were just born with it. Meryl noticed how pale he looked. She wondered, “Has he been injured while fighting off the attackers?”

She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, choosing to ignore him.

“Tired?” Chandler gently tucked the blanket around her again and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “If you’re sleepy, rest. I wanted to talk, but we can do that tomorrow.”

The room fell silent again. Meryl wasn’t actually sleepy, but she kept her eyes shut. She could feel Chandler’s gaze lingering on her, watching her quietly.

To avoid disturbing her, he even turned off the light. The room went dark, save for the soft glow of moonlight streaming through the window and onto her.

Chandler sat by her side for a while before lightly holding her hand. If Meryl had opened her eyes just then, she would’ve seen the deep affection in his dark, unwavering gaze.

A rustling noise from the hallway broke the stillness. “Mr. Aniston,” someone whispered.

Chandler let go of Meryl’s hand and stepped out of the room, gesturing for silence. “What is it?”

“Got what you asked for,” Walter said, holding up a white plastic bag filled with what looked like groceries.

Chandler took it, glancing back at Meryl. She was awake, her eyes open and staring at him. “Did I wake you?” Chandler asked as he stepped back inside. “Or were you never asleep?”

Meryl thought, “I’m too angry to sleep.”

“Want some late-night snacks?” Chandler asked, holding up the bag. Even though the lights in the room were off, he knew Meryl could still see.

Meryl, still sulking, replied, “I’m not hungry.”

Chandler gave her a long look, seeing through her act in an instant. “I’m hungry,” he said matter-of-factly. “Just pretend you’re keeping me company.”

He thought, “Meryl has to eat at least five times a day to help her body recover.”

Meryl had sent Griselda away earlier. Normally, she was gentle and accommodating, but not this time. This time, she’d been stubborn. She was angry, and she didn’t want to owe Chandler anything.

But Chandler wasn’t about to let her starve. With that, he headed into the kitchen, already stocked with cookware. This was a VIP suite, after all—everything they needed was right there.

Propping herself up slowly, Meryl asked softly, “Is this your way of making it up to me?”

Though there was a wall between them, Meryl knew he’d hear her. “No,” Chandler replied as he began washing the ingredients. “This is my responsibility. It’s what I should’ve done all along.”