Chapter 704 Watch on Her

“Awake?” Chandler opened his eyes to see Meryl lying in bed, scrolling through her phone. His gaze softened instantly. “You’re still recovering from childbirth. Too much screen time isn’t good for your eyes. What do you feel like eating? I’ll make it for you.”

“No need.” Meryl put her phone aside and got out of bed, heading to the bathroom.

Chandler quickly reached out to help her, but she subtly avoided his hand. He froze for a moment, clearly taken aback. “Meryl…”

“I’m not as fragile as you think,” Meryl said calmly, walking toward the bathroom. “It’s been days since I gave birth. I don’t need someone to hold my hand every step of the way anymore.” Her words carried a hidden rebuke–when she truly needed him, he wasn’t there.

Chandler lowered his gaze, guilt flashing in his eyes, but he quickly set those feelings aside and turned toward the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

When Meryl came out after freshening up, she saw Chandler busy in the kitchen but didn’t react much. She drew the curtains, changed into clean clothes, and took out her medical acupuncture needles from the drawer.

It was time to treat Felix. He had been seriously injured–barely pulled back from the brink of death–and his body was still weak.

Hearing the noise, Chandler turned off the stove and walked out. “Where are you going, Meryl?” he asked, puzzled, seeing her heading toward the door.

“I’m going to give Felix his medical acupuncture,” she replied without hesitation.

Chandler paused for a few seconds, a faint tightness settling in his chest.

Meryl turned her head slightly and added, “He saved my life, Chandler. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

The words hit Chandler with an unsettling sense of familiarity. He pressed his lips together, feeling like the weight of those words had rebounded onto him.

As Meryl was about to step out, Chandler quickly said, “Why the rush? At least have breakfast first. I made your favorite…”

“No need.” Meryl’s voice was calm yet distant, cutting him off.

“How could you not? You’re still in recovery, and diet is important.” Chandler stepped in front of her, blocking her way. “Even if you need to do medical acupuncture, it doesn’t have to be this very second.”

“I’ll eat in Felix’s room.” Meryl looked up and met his gaze, a faint smile playing on her lips. “We already planned it yesterday. He’s making me soup–it should be ready by now.”

Their eyes locked, but Meryl’s expression remained composed. In truth, the soup was a lie. Felix was the last person who’d know how to make something so specific, especially for postpartum recovery.

But the words cut Chandler deeply. He froze, his reaction almost imperceptible. The hurt in his eyes grew quickly, and then his lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Is that so?” he asked softly.

“Yes. If I don’t go now, the soup might get cold.” Meryl hadn’t intended to hurt him this way, but over the past weeks, she had experienced that very same pain from him time and time again.

She thought, “How would he know how much it hurt unless he feels it himself?”

Suppressing the pang of guilt rising in her chest, Meryl walked past Chandler, brushing lightly against him as she did. Her peripheral vision caught the glimmer of moisture in his eyes, and her hand instinctively tightened around the hem of her sleeve. Her nails dug into her palm.

She couldn’t allow herself to feel sorry for him. She thought, “When he hurt me, he didn’t hesitate, did he?”

Behind her, Meryl heard his footsteps retreat as if he’d gone back to his room. Meryl bit her lip and, with one hand supporting her waist, slowly made her way forward.

But soon enough, she heard his footsteps again, faster this time. Chandler caught up and draped a knee-length coat over her shoulders, then gently placed a knit hat on her head.

“It’s gotten colder,” he said in an even tone, as though the vulnerability in his eyes moments ago had been her imagination.

With a soft, tender smile, he looked at her intently. “Stay warm. Don’t catch a cold. And come back soon–I’ll be here waiting for you.”

A draft swept through the hallway, ruffling Chandler’s hair. The once-proud man now looked so thin, his figure seeming almost frail. The wind puffed up his loose pajamas, revealing how much weight he had lost.

Meryl felt an inexplicable frustration rising in her chest. She quickly looked away, hastily pressing the elevator button. When the doors opened, she stepped inside as if escaping.

A gentle breeze blew through the corridor as Chandler stood still, his eyes following her retreating figure. The elevator doors slid shut, sealing the distance between them. Even after the elevator left, Chandler didn’t look away.

He thought, “So this is what it feels like—the way she must have felt every time I walked away. I have never intended to hurt her, yet she has been hurt all the same.”

“Mr. Aniston,” Walter’s voice interrupted from behind him.

“Lydia seems to be going into labor soon,” Walter reported. “Her injuries were too severe, and with the pregnancy, the doctors couldn’t treat her properly. She’s been in excruciating pain for days. Yesterday, she even fainted from it. This morning, Malcolm came storming into the hospital, arguing with Charlotte on her behalf.”

Malcolm, a man who valued profit above all, was always proud of his connection to the Aniston family. For him to stand up to Charlotte over Lydia was unthinkable.

Walter added, “Lydia threatened to commit suicide if they didn’t induce labor. Charlotte finally gave in, but the Stone family insisted that the best time for labor is the day after tomorrow.”

Chandler’s eyes narrowed slightly. When Rocky was cornered, the noose practically around his neck, Chandler had asked him directly whether the car accident had anything to do with Lydia.

Rocky had sworn it was all his own doing and had nothing to do with Lydia. A man as spineless as Rocky would’ve betrayed her in a heartbeat if it meant saving himself. Yet he didn’t.

A shadow passed over Chandler’s eyes. “Keep a close watch on her,” he ordered coldly. “Whether it’s before or after the delivery, report every move she makes and everyone she meets to me immediately.”

“Yes, Mr. Aniston,” Walter replied.