Chapter 74: A Scar Beneath the Scarf
Yunice stood barefoot on the carpet, picked up her scarf, and carefully inspected it. “Good thing it’s not damaged. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to return it.”
Wyatt cut in. “You don’t need to return it.”
Yunice looked at him. She was about to ask why, but then remembered something more important. “Let me check your back,” she said.
I still remembered how pale he looked before I fell asleep. It must have been from the wound.
Wyatt sat up without resistance, and Yunice reached out to unbutton his shirt. She had grown up around medicine with her father, so she had seen both men and women. To her, there was no sense of taboo. Undressing someone for treatment didn’t feel inappropriate at all.
But when her knuckle brushed against Wyatt’s Adam’s apple by accident, a strange tremor ran through her. Something flickered in her mind. Her face warmed, but she forced herself to stay composed. “Thank you for saving me today.”
Wyatt corrected her. “Not today. Yesterday. You’ve been asleep for seven hours.”
It had just passed midnight, so technically, it was the day before. Normally, that wouldn’t matter. But as he spoke, the vibrations from his voice resonated through his throat, and Yunice felt it on her fingers.
She tensed again. “How did you even find me?”
Yunice had thought no one would notice her disappearance, much less come to rescue her. So when someone actually rushed in for me, I was stunned. My nose stung, and tears nearly welled up. It had been so long since anyone cared. They say people who grow up unloved are the easiest to fall for even the smallest act of kindness. I didn’t want to let my guard down in front of Wyatt.
She swiftly undid the buttons on his shirt, then walked around to his back. Her hands reached in from the collar, spreading the fabric open along his shoulders. His back was wrapped in gauze, and a large bloodstain had spread through it. Just looking at it made her frown.
“It was Paul. He thought you were with me,” Wyatt explained.
Yunice touched the gauze gently. It was unbearable. She immediately moved to undo it and clean the wound properly.
Just then, Wyatt turned his head slightly, casting a glance at her from the corner of his eye. “I heard Paul’s…”
“Injured!” Yunice’s expression changed. Her hand froze. “How bad? Is he dead?”
Wyatt’s eyes darkened. “No.”
“Oh,” Yunice gave a short reply and went back to unwrapping the gauze. “With an injury this large, keeping it wrapped only slows healing. The constant friction makes it worse.”
Wyatt was momentarily stunned. I thought Yunice would rush to Paul first. They had nearly twenty years of history. How could she just walk away? He frowned again: she might just want to deal with me first before heading over.
Yunice kept working on the gauze. Because of the blood and fluid, parts of it had stuck to his wound. Peeling it off was like tearing through stitches—it hurt. Even though she was as gentle as possible, some pain was unavoidable. She glanced up at Wyatt and found him cold-faced, silent, bearing the pain without a sound.
So Yunice decided to stop holding back. She figured it was better to get it over with quickly. She unraveled the gauze in a single motion, then reached around his chest to pull the last bit across and handed it to her other hand.
Wyatt had broad shoulders and a large frame. Compared to Yunice’s size, the contrast was sharp. And the way she moved the gauze meant she had to reach around him like she was hugging him. Every time her hands passed in front of him, her body leaned in closer. Her breath brushed against his raw, aching skin, making him uncomfortable in ways he didn’t expect.
Feeling his body tense, Wyatt suddenly grabbed her hand that was resting on his chest. “If you’re in such a rush to see Paul, just go. You don’t have to pretend with me.”
Yunice blinked, unsure what she’d done wrong. She replied calmly, “Who said I wanted to see him?”
She pulled her hand back and continued unwrapping the gauze. “Plenty of people will visit him. He doesn’t need me.”
Only I and Wyatt are the type nobody cared about. Even if we died, no one would notice. Thinking of that, Yunice felt a strange sense of kinship with Wyatt. He reminded me of a stray dog, mistreated for so long that any act of kindness would make him bare his teeth first, not wag his tail.
The image of a muddy, rain-soaked dog popped into her head. Instead of being scared of him, Yunice found it kind of funny.
Wyatt had no idea what she was laughing about. He frowned and muttered, “Can’t you be gentler? I swear Paul must’ve sent…”