Chapter 45: Worn Especially for You
Bianca knew that Terrence always kept his word.
The next day, Bianca went back to The Anderson Mansion with Terrence to keep Yasmin company.
On the way back from The Anderson Mansion, Bianca held Terrence's hand tightly the whole time.
When the car pulled into Crystal Gardens, it was already getting dark.
"We're home," Bianca said softly, her fingertips gently scratching his palm.
Terrence wasn't wearing his sunglasses.
At The Anderson Mansion, Yasmin had held his hand and talked for a long time, finally patting the back of his hand and saying, "Don't wear sunglasses at home. It makes things feel distant."
So the sunglasses were now lying quietly in Bianca's bag.
He turned his head slightly toward the car window. Though his vision was still blurry, he could sense the changes in light and darkness.
"We're home," he responded quietly, tightening his grip on her soft hand.
Bianca and Terrence got out of the car, and the servants came up respectfully to greet them.
Bianca waved them off and personally led Terrence inside.
Her movements were natural and careful. She'd warn him ahead of time about steps, and gently tug his hand to signal direction when turning.
Terrence let her lead him, a barely noticeable smile playing at the corners of his lips.
Dinner was already prepared—medicinal dishes that Bianca had specifically instructed the kitchen to make before going out.
Hugo had said that proper dietary supplements would help Terrence's optic nerves recover.
"Try this soup."
Bianca ladled a small bowl and placed it in front of Terrence, then picked up a spoon. After thinking for a moment, she handed it to him instead. "But you do it yourself. I'm not going to feed you."
Terrence chuckled softly. "Why not?"
"Feeding you makes you look so fragile."
Bianca pouted. "My husband is going to take back control of everything. How can people see him needing his wife to feed him?"
Her words were both proud and playful, and they stirred something in Terrence's heart.
He accurately dipped the spoon into the bowl, scooped up some soup, and brought it to his mouth.
The temperature was just right. The medicinal ingredients were handled perfectly, leaving only a rich, savory flavor.
"Is it good?" Bianca asked, resting her chin in her hand and watching him with bright, sparkling eyes.
"It's good," he nodded. "You arranged this?"
"Of course," she said, lifting her chin proudly. "I specifically consulted with a nutritionist and Dr. Graves to create a three-month dietary therapy plan just for you."
Terrence's hand holding the spoon paused.
Three months.
That was Hugo's estimated treatment and recovery period.
"So sure I'd agree to treatment?" he asked.
Bianca blinked. "You agreed last night, didn't you? Don't tell me Mr. Anderson goes back on his word?"
She was deliberately goading him, and Terrence could tell.
But he just shook his head and continued drinking his soup.
After dinner, Bianca pulled Terrence up to the glass greenhouse on the third floor.
This was her favorite place since moving into Crystal Gardens. It was filled with all kinds of flowers and plants. At night, when the skylight opened, you could lie on the rocking chair and see the simulated night sky.
"Close your eyes," she said, having Terrence sit on the lounge chair while she pulled up a small stool beside him.
Terrence did as she asked.
Bianca took out a bottle of essential oil, warmed it in her palms, then gently pressed them against his temples.
Her technique was quite skilled now, with just the right amount of pressure, slowly pressing along the acupressure points around his brow bone.
Soft piano music drifted from somewhere in the distance.
It was background music Bianca had set up in advance.
Terrence's body gradually relaxed.
He could feel the warmth of her fingertips, smell the faint rose scent on her body.
In this state of complete relaxation, certain instincts suppressed by reason began to quietly awaken.
"Terrence," Bianca's voice was soft, brushing past his ear. "Guess what color dress I'm wearing?"
Terrence's eyelashes trembled slightly. "I don't know."
"It's light purple, satin fabric. It has a soft sheen in the light." As she spoke, she took his hand and guided his fingertips to touch her dress. "Feel it. Isn't it smooth?"
Terrence's fingers stiffened for a moment.
The fabric under his palm was indeed silky and smooth, but what drew his attention more was her warm skin beneath the fabric.
"I wore it especially for you," Bianca said, her voice even closer now, her warm breath almost touching his ear.
"Dr. Graves said appropriate sensory stimulation helps awaken the associated responses in your visual nerves."
Her lips brushed against Terrence's earlobe, barely touching it.
Terrence's breathing suddenly became heavier.
He quickly raised his hand and, with perfect accuracy, gripped the back of her neck and pulled her toward him.
Bianca let out a soft cry and tumbled into his arms.
"This is what you call sensory stimulation?" His voice was low and husky, carrying a dangerous edge.
Bianca's heart pounded like a drum, but she forced herself to stay calm. "Can't I? I'm your wife. I want you to see me sooner."
As she spoke, she boldly leaned in and kissed his chin, then traced along his jawline upward, finally stopping at his closed eyelids.
Terrence's whole body tensed.
"Terrence," she said, her lips pressed against his eyelids, her voice soft as melting butter. "Look at me, okay?"
Her kisses fell in a fine rain, from his eyes to his nose bridge, then to the corners of his lips.
Her hands weren't idle either, gently unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt, her fingertips barely grazing his collarbone.
Terrence's reason completely snapped when those soft hands slipped inside his shirt.
He flipped over and pressed her onto the lounge chair, his burning kisses falling like a storm.
Bianca responded enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around his neck, her fingers threading through his thick, short hair.
In their passionate confusion, she quietly reached out and found the remote control on the small table beside them.
The main lights in the greenhouse suddenly came on.
Instantly illuminating the entire space.
This sudden change in lighting made him instinctively squint.
Bianca was a bit nervous too. She watched his pupils, which had been somewhat unfocused and scattered, contract slightly under the light stimulus.
He was trying to focus.
Though his gaze still carried some confusion and his focus wasn't stable, he was definitely trying hard to see her.
Terrence himself was stunned.
The light he sensed wasn't the usual vague sense of brightness and darkness he could only perceive.
The face so close to his was faintly visible.
It was Bianca.
Tears suddenly flooded Bianca's eyes, rolling down in large drops.
She carefully cupped his face. "Terrence, you can see me, can't you? Right?"
Terrence's throat felt blocked, his Adam's apple rolling violently.
He raised his hand, his fingertips gently touching her cheek, wiping away a scalding tear.
"Yes."
Bianca cried tears of joy, throwing herself into his arms and holding him tight. "That's wonderful! Dr. Graves was right. Your eyes have actually recovered a lot. It's just psychological."
Terrence stiffly hugged her back.
After crying in Terrence's arms for a while, Bianca looked up, her eyes tearful but her smile radiant. "Terrence, did you see? Your eyes are getting better. As long as you accept the final treatment and do systematic visual training, you'll definitely be able to see more clearly."
She cupped his face, pressing her forehead against his, her voice gentle. "I want you to see me with your own eyes, see our home. You shouldn't be trapped in darkness. You have the ability to control everything, including your own health."
Terrence fell silent.
Did she want him to see that badly?