Filed to story: When His Wife Can’t Forgive
“I did,” Caden responded flatly. “A quick look from the doorway was enough. I didn’t need to enter.”
Alicia thought his behavior was rather childish.
As the elevator doors slid open, a young man stood inside. Assuming they were a couple, he instinctively stepped back to give them space. Yet, once Caden and Alicia entered, they positioned themselves as far apart as strangers might, an unmistakable gap between them. The young man felt confused. Were they unacquainted with each other?
Unable to shake the thought, the young man found himself sneaking a glance at Alicia. As he admired her beauty, a hopeful thought crossed his mind: Was she single?
Alicia caught his lingering look.
The young man’s cheeks reddened, yet he couldn’t pull his eyes away. He was clearly handsome, and his admiration seemed sincere and harmless.
Alicia responded with a smile but remained silent.
The young man’s heart fluttered at her smile.
Upon reaching the ground floor, Alicia exited the elevator first, with Caden following casually behind. They continued to keep a formal distance.
Observing their seemingly unfamiliar behavior, the young man mustered the courage to approach Alicia, matching her pace. He asked quietly, “Miss, may I have your number?”
Caden’s gaze sharpened. He fought back the impulse to intervene physically, instead focusing on Alicia’s response.
With a graceful sidestep, Alicia avoided the young man’s approach. She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, conspicuously displaying the wedding ring on her finger, which glinted prominently. “I’m already married.”
The young man’s face fell. “I apologize for the intrusion.”
Alicia unlocked the car and slid into the driver’s seat, while Caden joined her as the passenger with composure. Caden glanced at the diamond ring adorning her hand.
They owned several sets of wedding rings. The one with the largest diamond was particularly striking and lovely, yet Alicia found it overly bulky and usually left it at home. Currently, they wore the rings Alicia had designed herself-perfectly sized, elegant, yet subtle.
At the time, Caden, blinded by his affection, had thought a smaller diamond was acceptable if it pleased her. Now, he recognized his mistake.
In a soft tone, Caden suggested, “I’ll ask Jolie to bring that ring from home tomorrow. You should wear that one. It suits you better.”
That ring, visible from ten meters away, was sure to dazzle and ward off any unknowing admirers.
My Hand
The thought of that overwhelming diamond ring gave Alicia a headache. Caden’s evident jealousy only intensified it.
“Maybe you should ask Jolie to send over the marriage certificate too? I could hang it around my neck when I go out.”
Caden responded seriously, “That’s actually not a bad idea. It could work.”
“You’re insane.”
Caden had been up all night, pouring over research on heart-related topics. “The artificial heart has a major drawback. It only lasts about a year. We have limited materials and can only construct one heart at present. What’s the plan for next year?”
A heavy feeling settled in Alicia’s chest. She frowned. “Is it that the materials are being controlled, or are they just not available?”
“They’re rare, and yes, they’re being controlled.”
“Who is controlling them?”
“I haven’t identified who exactly, but today I thought of someone who might know.”
Alicia was puzzled. “Who?”
Caden, sensitive to her emotional state, eased into the explanation. “Someone from the Moss family.”
Alicia’s face stiffened. She guessed Caden meant Dorian, her biological father.
Dorian had been a prominent figure in scientific research, involved in a secretive experiment that consumed vast resources and left him as its only survivor. He was exceptionally skilled at securing insufficient resources.
Caden added, “Dorian not only has the knowledge, but he also has the means to get it. I’ll have Corey reach out to him.”
Alicia said, “Dorian won’t respond well to Corey’s approach, and Corey won’t stand for it. The negotiations will probably break down.”
Caden reassured her, “Leave this matter to me.”
Alicia bit her lip, torn, and nodded.
Caden hoped this discussion would reset things to normal.
However, as they exited the car at the restaurant, Alicia avoided Caden’s offered hand.
Noticing his hesitation, Alicia turned back, feigning innocence. “What’s wrong? Want to hold my hand?”
Caden’s eyelid gave an involuntary twitch. He didn’t appreciate her condescending gesture and discreetly withdrew his hand. “No, just twiddling my thumbs.”
Alicia suppressed a laugh. “Well, carry on then.” She headed inside to secure a table.
Caden followed behind but chose not to join her. They sat apart, each finding the other’s company unpleasant.
After placing Alicia’s order, the waiter approached Caden. Caden didn’t look up as he asked, “What’s the specialty of the restaurant?”
The waiter listed several dishes.
Caden asked, “Which of these are spicy?”
After another list was provided, he added, “My stomach can’t handle spice. Something sweeter, perhaps?”
The waiter suggested a few more dishes.
Caden murmured distractedly, “Hmm, that sounds good.” The waiter, eager to please, suggested, “Would you like our best-selling set meal?”
Caden responded, nodding toward Alicia, “No, just bring me the same as her.”
The waiter was momentarily puzzled.
Gemma had been bathing daily, but she postponed it for two days following her surgery. Unable to bear it any longer today, she asked Pierre to purchase some undergarments and assist her with a warm water wash. Though Pierre had been caring for her for some time, this was his first experience assisting her with bathing.
Gemma was unable to move, and Pierre took great care, being as gentle as he could to avoid causing any harm to her wounds.
“Miss Hampton, where would you like me to begin?” Pierre asked respectfully.
Gemma felt a flush of embarrassment. “Start with the lower half, please.”
Lately, she had been unable to leave her bed for bathroom stops, and she felt that Pierre’s previous attempts at cleaning had left something to be desired.
As Pierre removed her pants, her slender legs were exposed. He glanced at them briefly, his brow furrowing. Misinterpreting his reaction, Gemma’s temper flared. “What? You don’t want to help?”
Pierre noticed her irritation and quickly reassured her. “No, that’s not the issue.”
It had only been two days since she had been confined to bed, but she already seemed thinner. He could now easily wrap one hand around her thigh.
Determined, Pierre carefully washed her with warm water, making sure to be thorough. He had chosen white cotton underwear for her, which he had washed and dried himself, preparing them for her to wear.
The new underwear was plain, a stark contrast to the ones Gemma had removed, which were adorned with pink bows.
She murmured, “No sense of style.”
Pierre responded, “I wasn’t sure what to pick, and I thought cotton would be comfortable.”
Then, his gaze lingered on her upper body. “Shall I wash there too?”
Gemma nodded. Their previous intimacy made this less awkward for her, but as Pierre began washing her, a troubling memory surfaced. “Do you think my chest looks bad?”
Pierre examined her carefully for a moment. “It looks fine,” he said, his tone neutral, as though simply stating a fact.
Gemma continued, “Really? I thought the doctor was harsh because of how my chest looked.”
“Did he see it?” Pierre asked almost reflexively.
“Yes, he did. It was necessary for the exam,” Gemma explained.
Pierre’s expression grew stern, and he pressed his lips together, choosing to remain silent thereafter.
Once she was clean, Pierre stayed by her side, never once stepping away. He was there not only during the day but throughout the night as well.
Beside Gemma’s bed, Pierre placed a cot where he wouldn’t sleep but would simply lean against it, ready to assist at a moment’s notice if Gemma woke up feeling uneasy during the night.
Her nights were restless, often marked by discomfort. When this happened, Pierre’s embrace seemed to soothe her somewhat.
However, feeling his warmth, Gemma couldn’t help but sense a pang of sadness. The kiss they shared that night had clearly been reluctant on Pierre’s part. Compelled by Corey, Pierre had compromised for the sake of money.
With her eyes closed, Gemma murmured, “Once I’ve had the transplant surgery, I’ll be okay. Then, Pierre, you should consider resigning.”
Pierre was someone who spoke very little. Though typically reserved, he always responded to Gemma’s inquiries. Tonight, however, he merely patted her shoulder, silently soothing her to sleep without uttering a word.
A wave of sadness washed over Gemma. She had grown fond of Pierre’s company, finding comfort in his presence, and had come to rely on him deeply. She might even harbor feelings for him, as she generally disliked men’s touches but found Pierre’s kisses tolerable. The thought of him possibly leaving his job brought a fear of never seeing him again, a feeling she struggled to express. Yet, even though she felt a strong reluctance for him to go, she knew she was powerless to stop it. She was never one to impose her will on others.
As these thoughts overwhelmed Gemma, tears streamed down, soaking Pierre’s chest.
Pierre paused and looked down at her.
Attempting to escape his hold, Gemma turned away, but Pierre gently grasped her chin, turning her face back toward him. Her eyes, brimming with tears, could no longer hide her emotions.
Caught crying, Gemma’s embarrassment only intensified her urge to cry.
Pierre, understanding her better than she did herself, gently wiped her tears and reassured her, “If you want me to stay, I will.”
Gemma sniffled, her voice tender. “I’m not asking you to stay.” Her voice had a gentle, captivating quality to it. Pierre felt a strong desire to comfort her and, without thinking, gently kissed the tip of her nose. Gemma tensed but made no move to withdraw. Pierre’s breath was warm, enveloping her in a distinctly masculine aura.