Chapter 169

Chapter 169

Inside the room.

Michael stared intently at the person in his arms. His injured hand gently traced across Isabella's cheek, trying to read something from that angry little face.

But there was nothing.

Isabella had clearly noticed his injured hand, yet she didn't care at all. She only cared that she'd been woken up, her face full of anger.

So did she really not care anymore?

He waved his hand in front of Isabella's eyes.

"Don't you see I'm hurt?"

Isabella, still groggy, nodded then shook her head, "I see it. But it's already bandaged, isn't it? There's still two hours before work. I want to sleep. I'm really tired."

Never mind Stella's situation—last night she'd worked until the early morning hours. If this kept up, she'd die from overwork.

Not bothering with anything else, Isabella swatted Michael's hand away, returned to bed, and fell back into a deep sleep.

But Michael was grinding his teeth in frustration. He pulled her up again, "Help me bandage my wound."

Isabella jumped, instinctively frowning.

What was wrong with him? That commanding manner, as if she wasn't a person but a doll.

Isabella was angry, hurt, and helpless.

Taking a deep breath, Isabella forced down all her complicated emotions and pulled out a smile that looked worse than crying. Then she quickly fetched the medical kit.

"You should have said something earlier about this. I'm sorry, I didn't notice. I'll bandage your wound right away."

The gauze opened, and bright red blood immediately flowed from the wound.

Touching it, the gauze felt somewhat damp.

Isabella thought for a moment, and while applying medicine, couldn't help muttering.

"I know you don't take your health that seriously, but your body is your own foundation. If something happens to you, your family will worry too. Especially with this kind of wound—you can't get it wet, or what if it gets infected and causes a fever?"

If Michael had problems, others might just worry along with him, but she'd definitely be the unlucky one.

After all, the two of them were living together now, and there was no way to hide this from Victor.

Once Victor knew their situation, he'd retaliate like crazy.

Isabella's movements were gentle, and she soon had the wound bandaged.

Feeling her gentle touch, Michael's mood improved considerably.

He cleared his throat. After the wound was bandaged, he pulled her into his arms, burying his head in Isabella's chest. His breathing became uneven, but he didn't rush to do anything. Instead, his voice came out hoarse.

"Let's cancel the agreement. Let's get back together for real, okay? From now on, we won't care about anything else. Let's just start over properly."

But Isabella lowered her eyes. From the corner of her eye, she glanced at Michael's slightly uncomfortable expression, her feelings complicated.

He regretted it—regretted what happened back then.

But what good was regret? There's no medicine for regret in this world.

What happened still exists. She couldn't pretend nothing had happened.

Taking a deep breath, when Isabella looked up, she still wore that charming, alluring expression. Her fingers lightly rested on Michael's shoulder, gently teasing him.

"I think things are fine as they are now. Starting over is too exhausting. After all, time can't flow backward, and I can't go back to being young again."

After what seemed like forever, Michael, as if unwilling to give up, held Isabella in his arms again, reminiscing about the past, "Come to think of it, it's really funny. Ever since we met, it seems we're always getting hurt. I hurt my arm, and you hurt your leg. Maybe we really are meant for each other."

"Why are you suddenly talking about being meant for each other? Shouldn't it be that we're naturally incompatible?"

Thinking of the Blackwood family's attitude before the marriage, Isabella's lips couldn't help but carry a hint of mockery, "In everyone's eyes, from start to finish, I was the one chasing after you. I was like a shameless person clinging to you. In your parents' eyes, if it weren't for me, you would have found a better wife, right?"

"We'd already gotten our marriage certificate, but before the wedding, your mother even found a fortune teller who predicted we couldn't have children right away—we'd have to wait at least ten years before having kids, right?"

Thinking of those past events, Isabella couldn't help but blame herself.

From beginning to end, not one person in the Blackwood family approved of her.

Yet she insisted on being a moth to a flame, recklessly marrying into that family.

Was there something wrong with her brain?

Michael froze for a moment. When he came to his senses, his expression grew even uglier, "It won't happen again. Just forget all those things."

"How could I possibly forget? Even if you forgot, how could I? After all, there were so many things."

Isabella thought of Nash and Hazel's aged and haggard expressions, and her eldest brother Oliver hitting walls everywhere, coming home every day looking dejected.

It was too hard to forget.

Those things were already carved into her bones. She simply couldn't forget them.

Michael seemed to think of something too. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he opened his mouth, but it was as if someone had gripped his throat—he couldn't say a single word.

In the end, he just swept his arm out and imprisoned Isabella in his embrace again, "I don't care what you're thinking, but what's past is past. Don't dwell on it anymore. Listen carefully—you're mine, I'm yours. Neither of us can escape."

Isabella was extremely docile, letting Michael hold her in his arms, but her face was expressionless, and her eyes even carried a hint of coldness.

Because no one was more clear-headed than her.

From start to finish, only one person had been serious—and that was her, the fool.

If that was the case, if pretending could get her everything, then she'd continue.

This game was just beginning. Whoever took it seriously would lose.

Michael felt regret in his heart, wanting to restore what they once had, but he knew clearly in his heart that it was impossible now.

Panic spread through his heart. He felt with absolute clarity that he couldn't afford to lose, couldn't afford to gamble. He simply couldn't leave the person before him.

And Isabella, held tightly in his arms, looked completely calm and indifferent.