Chapter 101 Injured
Bianca's cheeks burned, warmth spreading quickly beneath her skin. She tried to pull her hand away, but his grip only tightened, firm and unyielding.
When she lifted her gaze, she met the depth of Terrence's eyes—no trace of his usual distance there, only an intense, unwavering mix of love and possession that made her pulse stumble. It was that contrast, the sharp edge between his cold exterior and the warmth he kept solely for her, that had undone her completely.
Terrence, the man who seemed untouchable to the rest of the world, remembered every little thing she liked. He cleared obstacles from her path without her ever knowing, and he gave all his tenderness and indulgence to her... only her. That had never changed—past or present.
The scent of cream lingered in her mouth, sweet and rich. The cake wasn't perfect in appearance, but it carried their shared intent, their laughter, their quiet moments. It tasted like something that belonged only to them.
They ate it together, bite after bite, until the white frosting topped with their printed portraits was gone.
It was another free afternoon, no classes scheduled.
Bianca had returned to her apartment early, sitting cross-legged on the plush sofa beside Jasmine. The oversized TV screen glowed with the latest hit drama. Jasmine watched intently, but Bianca's brows drew together, as if some weight pressed behind her thoughts.
"Bianca, look at him..." Jasmine's sentence broke off midstream. She tilted her head, studying her friend. "You don't look happy. Did you have a fight with Terrence?"
A few days of being around them had shifted Jasmine's opinion of him; her tone had softened, his name now rolling off her tongue without hesitation.
Bianca didn't bother to hide it—she'd been wanting to talk to Jasmine anyway. "His birthday's coming up. He already has everything. I don't know what would be right to give him."
Jasmine's expression mirrored her dilemma. The kind of gifts that came to mind, Terrence likely owned already.
Then her eyes lit up. She slapped her thigh. "If he doesn't need anything expensive, give him something meaningful."
Bianca's frown lingered. "Meaningful?"
Jasmine leaned forward, impatient to explain. "Something handmade. Here—let me show you." She unlocked her phone and pulled up a trending video of custom scrapbook albums.
Bianca's eyes brightened instantly. She grabbed Jasmine's wrist. "That's perfect!"
Terrence had no shortage of luxury. What he lacked was something crafted with care, a one-of-a-kind memory.
She picked up a craft knife, slicing a sheet of black cardstock in half. She didn't realize how thin it was, how sharp the blade could be. The tip tore through the paper—and her palm.
Blood welled and dropped onto a photo of them together, spreading into a vivid red stain.
Only then did she feel the sting. She snatched a tissue, pressing it to her hand, but the crimson had already seeped into the white paper.
The door swung open. Terrence stepped in, and his gaze locked instantly on the blood. In two strides he was there, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. His eyes flicked to the cut, relief crossing his features before his brows drew tight again.
"How could you be this careless?"
Bianca's head dipped, her lips tightening, heat rising to her cheeks. Of all moments, he had to walk in now.
He scooped her up without another word, settling her onto the sofa before disappearing into his study. Moments later he returned with a first-aid kit. His usual composure was stripped away, replaced by a sharp focus edged with worry.
Kneeling in front of her, he rinsed the wound with saline, his touch careful, almost reverent, like she was something fragile and irreplaceable. His brows stayed furrowed, his mouth a hard line. When the disinfectant stung, he instinctively blew on the cut, trying to ease the pain.
From the doorway, Jasmine froze mid-step, a fruit platter balanced in her hands. In her mind, Terrence had always been the aloof type, buried in work. She hadn't imagined him like this—gentle, attentive.
She didn't interrupt, only watched from the corner.
White gauze wound around Bianca's palm, loop after loop.
"You're wrapping me like a mummy," Bianca teased, smiling faintly at her hand snugly bandaged.
The cut wasn't deep—just a sharp blade meeting thin skin.
"No spicy food. Keep it dry," Terrence said, holding her fingertips as if they might break.
When he finished, Jasmine stepped forward, setting the fruit down on the coffee table. Her gaze landed on the blood-marked sheet of paper, brows knitting. "Bianca, I was gone for barely a minute. How did you manage to hurt yourself?"
Bianca lowered her voice. "He's overreacting. It's just a small cut."
"Doesn't that tell you how much he cares?" Jasmine said softly. "I used to worry you weren't happy. Now I can see—you're in good hands."
"Yes." Bianca's fingers brushed Terrence's hand, her voice warm. "He only looks cold. He's patient... and gentle."
The man being praised sat beside her, posture as rigid as if he were in a boardroom.
Bianca's lips curved mischievously. She glanced at Jasmine. "Terrence is perfect in every way—looks, build, skill. He's the best Sovereign City has."
"That's all surface," Jasmine replied with a grin. "The most important thing is that he's devoted to you. You know what they say—happy wife, thriving life."
Terrence's ears seemed to sharpen at that. Bianca's words had already flushed his skin, but Jasmine's quip made something flicker in his mind. Was that why the recent deal had gone so smoothly?
Bianca nudged him with her uninjured hand. "Go on, Terrence. Don't let us keep you from work."
His gaze swept over the scattered colored cardstock and their photographs. Something unreadable passed through his eyes. He bent, pressing a kiss beside her bandaged hand. "Rest. Take it easy."
As he straightened, he asked casually, "Need help with this?"
Bianca's face warmed. She quickly tucked the materials behind her. "No! It's a secret."
The corner of his mouth lifted. He didn't press, turning toward the study. But before closing the door, he glanced back once more at the craft supplies.