Seeing the familiar burn wound, Gwenda recalled a memory from her previous life: redressing the burns on her own disfigured face. Forty percent of her face had been burned. Each doctor's visit was agony; she cried from the pain. The doctor always offered the same comfort: "You just have to bear it for a bit." But she knew such pain wasn't something one could endure simply on command.

That's why she soothed Olivier, saying, "If it hurts, you can let it out," empathizing with the searing pain of a burn.

Olivier smiled faintly. "Alright."

Gwenda carefully redressed his wound, her face screwed up in concentration, her movements gentle. Looking down at her, Olivier felt unconsciously drawn to her.

In the dim yellow light, her eyebrows were tightly knitted, her eyelashes quivering with each movement. Her lips were parted slightly; she'd forgotten to breathe through her nose in her nervousness. Looking at those pink lips, he wanted to kiss them.

Olivier's eyes darkened; his breath hitched. He wanted to kiss her.

"All done," Gwenda said, smiling with satisfaction.

As she looked up, a large hand grasped the back of her head, holding her still. Caught off guard, she found herself staring into his dark eyes. Her breath caught in her throat; time seemed to stop. Olivier stared intently at her, fire in his eyes. His voice was full of temptation. "Can I kiss you?"

Gwenda's heart skipped a beat. Her face flushed crimson as she stared at him, astonished. Her mind went blank.

"If you don't answer, I'll take your silence as a yes."

Olivier covered her eyes with his other hand and kissed her. The simple, chaste kiss left Gwenda no room to refuse. By the time she recovered, he'd pulled back.

Gwenda slumped onto the carpet, her blush spreading to her ears. She felt as if she'd experienced a catastrophe. "What's wrong?"

Olivier chuckled at her reaction.

Recovering from her shock, Gwenda avoided his gaze, covered her mouth, and fled. The bedroom door slammed shut. Leaning against it, she panted, the sensation of his lips lingering.

"He actually kissed me! How could he kiss me?" she thought, covering her face and internally screaming.

In the living room, Olivier sat on the sofa, gazing at the closed door, a smile playing on his lips. As he was about to follow her, his phone rang—Grandma Melanie.

"Grandmother," he answered.

"I heard you're living with a girl to… get closer?" Grandma Melanie's teasing tone was unmistakable.

Gazing at the closed door, Olivier ran his calloused fingers over his lips, savoring the memory of the kiss. "Mmhmm," he replied, smiling.

"Not bad, my boy! I always thought you were terrible at this, but it seems you have plenty of tricks up your sleeve!" Melanie laughed.

Olivier was speechless as she continued, "Otto told me she's pretty. When are you bringing her home?"

"We'll see. It's too early to tell." The relationship was new; he couldn't rush things.

"You're right. We can't scare her," Melanie said, laughing. "But hurry up and get together with her! I want a grandson this year!"