What was worse was that Maeve urgently needed to use the restroom. She clutched the corner of her shirt, frozen, afraid to move.

Byron noticed her reddening face and awkward posture. A teasing glint appeared in his eyes. "What's wrong? Do you need help?"

"No, thanks!" Maeve quickly shook her head, fearing he was serious. "I can manage. Please don't be creepy!"

Her accusation of creepiness narrowed Byron's eyes; he'd never been judged like this before. "Maeve, do you think it's creepy for your husband to help with your... physiological needs? Are you that heartless?" He mused that if he were a creep, he would have already slept with her.

Hearing the displeasure in his voice, Maeve shrank back. "No. I know you're a nice friend."

Byron, relegated to the friend zone, was speechless. His mood soured.

"Hurry up. Any longer, and I'm doing it myself," he urged, his expression gloomy.

After a few seconds' hesitation, Maeve relented. "Turn around. No peeking." Byron sneered. "Which part of you is worth peeking at? You're flattering yourself."

He turned his back, but kept his arms behind her for support. Maeve pursed her lips; she'd never felt so awkward. She thought, Why can't I be as thick-skinned as Byron? Back when he was hospitalized, I helped him to the washroom. He wasn't embarrassed at all, even teasing me. I've suffered because I'm not thick-skinned enough.

After relieving herself, her face burned with shame and embarrassment. "I-I'm done," she whispered.

Byron turned, a slight smile playing on his lips as he saw her crimson face. He figured her shyness meant she wasn't swayed by that "gigolo." He said nothing, but lifted her slightly, holding her slender waist, and carried her to the sink.

Maeve kept her head down, washing her hands, avoiding his gaze. "Please carry me back, thank you," she whispered, unusually reserved.

Byron didn't move. After a moment, Maeve looked up. He stood two steps away, arms crossed, a relaxed expression on his face. Her heart pounded, but she feigned calm. "I'm done washing. Can you carry me out?"

"I can't," Byron replied.

Maeve was stunned. "Why?"

"The current situation is very beneficial to me," Byron said casually. "So, you can answer the question I asked you in the car now."

Maeve thought, Answer the question from the car... So he didn't put me here just to make it easier for me to wash my hands? She bit her lip. "What if I refuse to answer?"

"Take a guess," Byron said lazily, leaning against a glass shelf and rolling up his sleeves. "I'm free tonight." He was prepared to wait.

Maeve's eyes were filled with confusion as she recalled... (The passage ends abruptly.)