Chapter 80

Chapter 80

Patricia walked Paul to the door, and after a quick chat, he left.

As soon as he was gone, the room fell silent.

She tiptoed to the bedside, crouched down, and looked at Charles, whose face was flushed and brows furrowed. 

Gently, she smoothed out his frown with her hand, worry etched on her face as she watched him lying there.

She had taken in everything Paul had said earlier. She had never seen this side of Charles before; it felt so unreal.

In her previous life, Charles had never shown any vulnerability in front of her.

"Charles," Patricia rested her head on her knees, looking at him and calling his name softly, a wave of indescribable sadness washing over her. 

"I've always wanted to ask you, why did you marry me? Are you happy in this marriage?"

The question "Are you happy?" had haunted Patricia like a curse. 

After her rebirth, many things had changed, causing her initial resolve to treat Charles coldly to waver.

Now, Missy wasn't tormenting her or looking down on her, she wasn't being neglected by the Anderson family, her daughter Emily wasn't withdrawn, and she and Charles were at least courteous to each other.

These were things she had desperately strived for in her previous life but never achieved.

Maybe she and Charles could have a better life this time around?

In the middle of the night, Charles woke up with a dry, itchy throat. After confirming he was in Patricia's suite, he got up to pour a glass of water.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Patricia on the balcony, sketching on her tablet.

The night in Regal City was quiet, and the light from the tablet reflected off the glass door. 

He grabbed a blanket and walked over. Even through the glass, he could faintly hear the tapping of the stylus on the screen.

Patricia seemed to hear the noise from the bedroom and turned to look.

"Why are you drawing outside? It's cold out here." Charles draped the blanket over her shoulders, pulled up a chair next to her, and sat down, still groggy and a bit slow.

"You're awake?" Patricia ignored his question, reaching out to feel his forehead. "It seems like your fever has gone down. Is that medicine really that effective?"

Charles took her hand and held it in his, warming it. "I'm much better now. Why aren't you asleep?"

His voice was still hoarse, with a heavy nasal tone.

Patricia let him hold her hand without resistance, using her free hand to continue working on her tablet. "I have some work to finish. Since you're awake, take your medicine. Paul left some extra for you."

"No need, I'm feeling much better." His large hand gently rubbed her cool one, his palm warm. "I'll keep you company for a while."

The cold wind blew outside, and after a moment's hesitation, Patricia led him back inside. They moved two chairs and closed the balcony door, sitting together.

The living room was lit by a single floor lamp, casting a warm yellow light that stretched their shadows long.

Charles sat quietly beside her, watching her draw. The silence between them wasn't awkward but rather oddly peaceful.

They had never spent time together like this before.

"What are you designing?" Charles broke the silence as Patricia seemed to be finishing up.

"A project I submitted earlier. Mark gave me some suggestions." Patricia curled her fingers. "He said my design has a lot of natural energy but lacks a sense of story. I'm trying to figure out how to add that."

"Mark's a tough critic." Charles chuckled, the fatigue in his eyes easing. "If he's giving you advice, it means you're good enough."

Patricia's heart skipped a beat at his sudden compliment, and she turned to look out the window.

He had never praised her before, and this unexpected compliment made her feel shy.

At some point, snowflakes began to fall outside, dancing under the streetlights and quickly forming a thin layer on the windowsill.

"It's snowing," she said softly, a hint of surprise in her voice.

Charles followed her gaze, a faint smile on his lips. "The first snow in Regal City is earlier than usual this year."

"Speaking of which," Patricia suddenly turned to glare at him, playfully scolding, "who was it that lectured me a few days ago about the temperature difference in Regal City and told me to dress warmly? And now you're the one who got sick, Mr. Anderson. That's not very consistent, is it?"

Charles was taken aback by her sudden reprimand but then laughed, the sound vibrating through the air to her ears. He squeezed her hand. "My mistake. It won't happen again."

The word "next time" made Patricia's heart skip a beat. She turned her face away. "Next time, it won't just be a verbal scolding."

Charles smiled, looking down at her soft hand in his palm, and whispered, "I won't let you worry again, I promise."

Patricia felt uneasy at his smile and instinctively tried to pull her hand back, but he held her wrist, playing with it like a toy.

"Patricia," Charles called her name softly, his tone unusually gentle, "do what you want to do. If you need any resources or information, just let me know."

Patricia was stunned, not knowing how to react. She blurted out, "Why are you saying this all of a sudden?"

They weren't exactly on terms to discuss work.

"I know I haven't done well in some areas and made you feel wronged. You can tell me." Charles looked at her seriously. "I can change."

"If you have questions for me, I'll answer them."

His sincere and intense gaze made her heart warm, and she couldn't refuse.

Suddenly, many questions flooded her mind. Calvin's words from the afternoon came to the forefront, and Patricia asked directly, "Why didn't you call the police back then?"

"Not calling the police was the best choice at the time," Charles said, his voice steady as he recalled the two days Patricia had been kidnapped, his heart still aching. "I needed to ensure your safety before taking the next step."

"What if the kidnappers had killed me?"

"That wouldn't have happened," Charles said with absolute certainty, gripping her hand tighter. "I wouldn't let that happen."

He was confident he could protect Patricia and ensure her safety by his side.

His words hit Patricia like a stone, causing ripples in her heart. She felt a lump in her throat and bit her lip, questioning, "Charles, do you really think you can guarantee everything..."

Before she could finish, Charles pulled her into his arms, his warm breath on her face.

They were so close that they could see their reflections in each other's eyes.

"Nothing like that will happen," Charles said in a low, hoarse voice, his hand on her wrist trembling slightly. "I won't let you get hurt again."

He had learned his lesson from that kidnapping.

The air seemed to freeze, and an ambiguous tension quickly grew under the light.

Patricia's heart raced, and she instinctively tried to pull away, but he gently held the back of her neck. His palm, still warm from the fever, made her skin tingle.

She didn't understand why Charles was saying these things now. 

Had he really been worried during her disappearance?

"Honey," he murmured, his rough hand brushing her lips, "trust me."

Patricia's mind went blank. That word "Honey" tugged at her heartstrings, and before she could react, he gently kissed her lips.

His kiss was light, carrying the slight bitterness of the fever medicine and a hint of tenderness, as if he were handling a precious treasure he had just regained.