Chapter 298 Caroline, I Like You
The two of them would often sit together for an entire afternoon without saying a word.
Alexander's gaze would always drift toward Caroline without him meaning to. He'd watch her with her head lowered, watch her slender fingers holding the needle and thread, her movements practiced and quiet. He'd watch the sunlight illuminate her profile, her features so soft they were almost impossible to look away from.
Something that had been knotted tight inside him finally gave a little. What he'd believed had gone dark was beginning to flicker back to life.
It wasn't just dependence and gratitude—there were other, more complicated feelings mixed in, ones even he didn't dare examine too closely.
Sometimes he'd think back to his days at the Hamilton mansion, think of Linus, and of Edith, whom he'd once loved. But these memories were starting to fade like old photographs. What felt more real now was this quiet but resilient girl, and the brief refuge this small farmhouse offered.
He knew the addiction hadn't truly disappeared. It was more like a shadow that could come roaring back at any moment—the second he let his guard down, it would pounce.
And they couldn't hide forever. Sooner or later, it would catch up to them.
But at least for now, in this stolen stretch of peace, he could catch his breath.
In the blink of an eye, Alexander had been at the farmhouse for three months.
He looked much better now, had put some weight back on. The addiction hadn't flared up in over two weeks, and that restless, hollow feeling that had been lodged inside him had faded quite a bit.
Even the old doctor from town—the one Caroline occasionally called in, who was always frowning—seemed genuinely surprised during the last checkup.
"Sir, you're in good shape, and you've got real willpower. You've made it through the worst of it. But remember, the toughest part usually isn't your body—it's what happens in your head. For the next few years, maybe for the rest of your life, you'll need to stay on guard. Stay away from drugs, and steer clear of the people and places that pull you back."
Alexander nodded solemnly.
At dusk, Caroline was in the yard collecting the dried laundry. The setting sun stretched her shadow long, the light painting her outline in warm orange.
Alexander walked over and naturally took the heavy wooden basin from her hands.
The two of them stood side by side in the fading light, each busy with their tasks, but working together seamlessly.
"Caroline," he suddenly said.
"Mm?" She turned to look at him.
He looked at her, his throat tightening.
There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to thank her, to apologize for how cold he'd been to her in the past, and to ask what they should do next.
But all those words got stuck in his chest, and in the end only the simplest one came out.
"Thank you."
He scratched his head a bit awkwardly. "Without you, I'd probably be dead by now, or... turned into someone I wouldn't even recognize."
Caroline froze for a moment, then her ears quietly turned red. She lowered her eyes, avoiding his too-direct gaze.
"It's nothing. You made it through on your own."
"No." He shook his head.
"You saved me. Every single time, when I was at my most pathetic, most out of control—it was you, and only you... who still treated me like a human being."
The weight of those words made her have to look up at him again.
In his eyes she saw a loosening that comes after surviving disaster, and deeper down, a warmth he couldn't suppress.
Her heartbeat suddenly went wild, and she immediately looked away.
"I... I'll go make dinner." She hurriedly dropped that line and rushed inside with the laundry.
After nightfall, Caroline lit up the string of small lights in the yard, their warm yellow glow softening the wooden table and the shadows under the eaves.
The two of them sat on opposite sides of the table, eating a simple dinner. There was an unclear tension in the air, like something was being pushed onto the table and neither of them was reaching out first to uncover it.
Suddenly, Alexander put down his utensils.
"Caroline, once I'm a bit better, let's leave this place."
Her chopsticks stopped mid-motion, and she looked up at him, somewhat stunned.
"We'll go somewhere nobody knows us," he continued, not speaking fast, but firmly.
"I still have some... personal items I can sell for money. Not much, but enough for us to find a quiet town, rent a place, start a small business, or... I'll find work. We can start over." He paused, as if holding back some urgency. "Irene mentioned you told your family you were going abroad as an exchange student. I also have some personal connections. Once we're settled, I'll contact them and see if I can get you sent abroad. Don't worry, I won't let the Neville Family find you, and I won't... let you marry Alan."
He'd picked up these details during Irene's occasional visits. From his initial shock, to resolving in his heart not to let Caroline get hurt again, to now—he'd realized he couldn't accept her leaving his life.
Caroline's heart felt suddenly squeezed by something. That warmth rushed up all at once, her eyes burning, tears almost falling.
She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was blocked.
The plan he described was too bold, too much like an impossible fantasy—something Caroline had secretly imagined but never dared believe could happen to her. It sounded like a soap bubble in sunlight—beautiful, but ready to burst at a touch.
Out there, there was the Neville Family. There was the Hamilton family. And there were too many eyes on them—too many forces working in the dark.
Where could they escape to? How easy could starting over really be?
But when he looked at her like that, when he said "we," that wall she'd maintained in her heart for so many years suddenly loosened a little.
"Why?" She finally found her voice.
"Why... do you want to take me with you? It would be easier for you to leave alone."
Alexander was silent for a moment, his gaze dropping, a hint of embarrassment a young man can't hide showing on his face.
"Because... I like you. Caroline, I... like you."
She froze in place.
When he heard no response, panic rose in his chest and he instinctively looked up at her.
He had so much more to say—promises, explanations, he even wanted to lay out exactly how he'd fallen for her step by step. But he found that no words were accurate enough, no expression adequate.
In the end he could only repeat it over and over, as if trying to convince himself.
"Caroline, I like you. I really, really like you..."
Her face grew redder and redder, her eyes too, her vision clouding over like it was covered in mist, and then tears suddenly fell.
"You... didn't you like Edith..." She turned her head away, covering her eyes with her hand.
"No..." He walked over and crouched down in front of her, gently holding her wrist.
"Caroline, I like you."
If changing his heart really meant betrayal, then he'd rather face the consequences. He didn't know if he deserved the word "clean," but he knew he wanted her close. He wanted to do everything he could to protect her—to give her a life that was safer, and brighter.