Chapter 26

On Cynthia’s shoulder were faint marks from Christopher’s intimacy the previous night. She wore Melody’s clothes.

A wave of guilt washed over Christopher, as if betraying Melody. His palms were clammy; he instinctively looked away.

“Christopher, could you hold my hand? I just want to wash my face,” Cynthia said, tilting her head.

After wringing the towel, Christopher handed it to her. Having finished wiping her face, she attempted to stand, holding onto the counter.

“I’m fine now. Thank you. You can—”

Before she could finish, her legs buckled. He caught her, scooping her into his arms.

“Don’t push yourself. You need to let your foot heal properly,” he said.

Cynthia held his arm, turning to bring their faces close. Her hand rose, hooking around his neck. Her gaze was shy, alluring—an open invitation.

The air thickened in the small bathroom. Their lips neared, a breath apart.

Then, Christopher saw the marks on her shoulder—the marks he’d left in a moment of passion the night before.

He abruptly straightened, his expression unreadable. “I’ll carry you back to your room.”

What could he blame it on this time? Last night, he’d rationalized it as weakness. But now? He wouldn’t repeat the mistake.

Cynthia was lifted and reluctantly carried back to bed. Her seduction had failed.

What was happening? He'd stopped short of crossing the line last night, as well.

As Christopher prepared to leave, Cynthia grabbed his hand, biting her lip. Her voice trembled. “Christopher, do you hate me?”

Christopher’s lips tightened before he answered, “No.”

“But you clearly—” She clung to his waist, refusing to let him go.

His body stiffened as he gently pried her hands away. “You’re still recovering. You need to rest.”

“It’s just my foot that’s injured, not—” Cynthia began, reaching for him again.

This time, he stepped back, increasing the distance. If she persisted, her uninjured foot would betray her. Resentful but cautious, she stopped, tears welling.

“Cynthia, I respect and care for you deeply. Even the smallest injury matters to me,” Christopher said softly. “So, rest well tonight. Goodnight.”

He left.

Cynthia stewed in frustration, pounding the bed in anger. How had she failed to grasp what seemed so near? Outside, Christopher fled to the master bedroom.

For inexplicable reasons, Melody’s room felt suffocating. The space felt judgmental, tightening his chest and racing his heart—especially with the lingering trace of her scent.

This was unsettling. Christopher couldn’t understand it. Agitated, he sat on the bed and grabbed his phone, noticing a message he’d accidentally sent earlier. Melody hadn’t replied.

His grip tightened, unease and frustration turning to anger. With a forceful toss, he sent the phone skidding across the carpet, hitting the wall.

At the ward, Melody chatted with Anthony. She’d seen Christopher’s message but saw no need to reply.

Was he explaining Cynthia’s presence? Or flaunting his beloved in their home?

Since Melody wasn’t there, they could indulge freely. But the thought of them doing so in her bed churned her stomach. It was filthy. Upon returning home, she would replace all her bedding and thoroughly disinfect the room.

Chapter 22