Chapter 292 She Just Doesn't Want to Have Sex
As soon as Grace finished talking, Henry's lips found her neck, warm and a little wet, moving down as her robe slipped off.
Grace tilted her head, trying to steady the rush of feelings.
Desire stirred in her, but her heart held back. Just as Henry was about to go further, she grabbed his wrist, stopping him.
"I'm a bit tired," she said, her voice rough.
Henry, knowing her well, understood it was just an excuse; she wasn't in the mood.
He didn't push her but didn't let go right away either. He rested his head on her shoulder for a while before heading to the bathroom.
Soon, the sound of running water filled the room.
Grace figured he was taking care of himself.
Sure enough, when Henry came out, his robe was wet, and there was a faint look of satisfaction on his face.
Seeing her expression, he said awkwardly, "If I don't, I can't sleep."
Especially since they shared a bed.
Now that Grace was back, they were a couple. Even though she had reservations, he didn't want them to sleep apart. He hoped she'd eventually let go and be truly his.
The atmosphere was tense, and Grace felt uneasy. Henry came over and scooped her up.
She felt light in his arms, her blonde hair spilling over his shoulder, making her look even more delicate.
Henry looked down at her, his Adam's apple bobbing.
It reminded him of their wedding night. He had held her like this, but that night he had roughly torn her silk nightgown, making her cry in pain all night.
Henry put her down on the soft bed. He bent over and kissed her, his voice soft and soothing, "Grace, I won't hurt you again. I won't do anything you don't like."
He kissed her for a long time.
His body reacted, but he didn't act on it, just held her gently.
Late at night, it started to rain.
Grace lay in bed, with Henry's warm body behind her. He held her waist, fitting her perfectly into his embrace.
She couldn't sleep, listening to the rain outside.
Suddenly, Dylan's words echoed in her mind—"If you want to know the truth, the answer is in the villa."
Grace stared into the night. After a while, she carefully moved Henry's arm and got out of bed quietly.
She put on a robe and left the bedroom in the dark.
Behind her, Henry slowly opened his eyes.
Grace walked down the dim hallway. Despite it being December, there was lightning outside, briefly turning night into day.
The flickering light seemed to guide her. Grace arrived at a room on the third floor, pushed open the door, and found it slightly damp with a faint smell of dust, probably because no one had been there for a long time.
She turned on the light, and the crystal chandelier lit up the room. She was stunned by what she saw.
Violins hung on the walls, unique pieces from around the world. There was also a painting and a wedding photo of her and Henry.
The photo was obviously photoshopped, but the 20-year-old Grace had eyes filled with such straightforward and passionate affection.
Grace walked over and hesitantly reached out to touch the photo.
Her heart trembled. She thought, so she had once truly loved Henry so fervently, with such eyes and feelings similar to what she had felt recently.
Beside it, there was a diary.
Grace opened it, but it was mostly burned, with half of it blank.
Footsteps sounded outside the door.
Moments later, Henry appeared at the door, wearing a black robe, tall and handsome. He stood at the door for a while before walking towards her.
Grace couldn't help but take a step back.
Henry took the diary from her hand. He looked down at it for a long time, and when he looked up at her again, his eyes had a determined look, as if he had made some decision.
Henry led Grace to the hall.
He turned on the heater, brewed her favorite Blue Mountain coffee, and once the aroma filled the room, he spoke slowly, "Can't sleep? Want to know about the past?"
Grace didn't deny it.
Henry sat across from her. His voice was deeper than the night. "Grace, our past wasn't pretty. There was a lot of pain and ups and downs, but if you want to know, I'll tell you."
Grace stayed silent.
Henry, a bit bitter, said, "I have one request: don't leave me."
Grace nodded, "I promise."
Henry's voice was rough as he recounted their past. He didn't hide anything or sugarcoat it. He told her everything.
Including Elodie, the slap, and sending her to the sanatorium.
The sky lightened, and the rain stopped.
Henry finally finished, his eyes sore and his heart even more anxious, a feeling just as intense as the days and nights he spent searching for Grace.
Grace lowered her gaze, looking at the rim of the coffee cup she had drunk from, stained with some dried coffee residue.
She was silent for a long time, slowly digesting everything Henry had said. Then she looked up at Henry and said softly, "Don't you have a meeting in the morning? You should get some sleep."
Her tone was gentle, but Henry closed his eyes in fear.
At that moment, Grace had truly become "Mrs. Montague."
Grace knew everything now. She kept her promise and didn't leave. She lived with Henry as his wife.
She took good care of her health, saw the doctor regularly, and didn't dwell on the past.
In half a month, she took over Serene Petal Dining again, adapted to her new life, treated Clara well, loved the children, and took care of them meticulously.
Grace seemed as if she had never lost her memory.
Despite their shared past, which had become a knot in her heart, she remained somewhat distant from Henry. At night, he tried to be affectionate, but she felt nothing.
She had become indifferent to Henry.
Before, every time he touched her, her underwear would get wet. But now, no matter how he teased her, she stayed calm and unresponsive.
Grace knew that such a marital relationship wouldn't last long.
Henry didn't force her, but that didn't mean he didn't want to. If they continued to have a sexless marriage, the relationship wouldn't last. Grace couldn't quite say what she felt for Henry, but she didn't want a divorce.
Maybe it was because she had been through too much, or maybe it was because she was getting older.
Grace no longer pursued pure love like she did when she was young. Now she was more practical.
In the blink of an eye, it was Christmas Eve.
That evening, there was a large charity gala in Evergreen City.
At 4:00 PM, Henry had invited a top styling team to the villa to style Grace. They brought eight sets of haute couture, showing how much effort Henry had put in.
Grace chose a Dior haute couture dress.
A light green strapless gown, elegant and graceful. The stylist gave Grace a wet hair look, making her appear fresh and radiant.
Henry came in from outside, and the stylist exclaimed, "Mrs. Montague, your frame is perfect! Only someone slender enough can wear this haute couture and show off its advantages."
Grace also liked the dress very much.
At this moment, the stylist noticed Henry and left.
Henry stood behind Grace, watching her in the mirror for a long time. He lowered his head, his high nose lightly touching her soft earlobe, his voice hoarse, "Wearing perfume?"
Grace responded softly, and then her neck felt cool as Henry put a precious diamond necklace on her.
"Do you like it?" Henry asked.
"I like it."
Henry kissed her earlobe and suddenly asked, "That thin chain you used to wear, I haven't seen you wear it for days. You used to love it so much, why don't you like it now?"
Grace gently touched her neck, "I'm tired of it. Recently, I've taken a liking to other necklaces."
Henry's eyes darkened slightly, but after a moment, he acted as if nothing had happened, trying to please her, "I'll get you another one someday."