Chapter 51 The Obsession Hidden for Five Years

Chapter 51 The Obsession Hidden for Five Years

She nodded stiffly.

"Then... then Mom's leaving now." Getting a response, Linda seemed to have a huge weight lifted off her shoulders. She took one last deep look at Monica, turned around, and dragged her tired steps down the stairs, her figure quickly disappearing at the stairwell entrance.

The room fell into deathly silence once again.

Monica closed the door and leaned against the cold door panel, the food in her hands still warm to the touch.

Walking to the dining table, she gently set everything down.

Monica remained silent for a long time, so long that she could even hear her own heartbeat.

She slowly opened the thermal container, and a familiar sweet aroma hit her nose.

Monica picked up a piece and took a small bite.

Crispy pastry, soft apple filling, sweet but not cloying, with the fresh scent of cinnamon.

This taste... was from her memory, the taste of what her mother made for her by hand when her father was still alive.

Tears came without warning, sliding silently down her pale cheeks.

She picked up the roasted turkey, tore off a piece - the meat was tender with a unique spiced flavor.

She couldn't tell, couldn't figure it out.

She wiped her tears and looked at the warm food on the table, her heart a jumble of emotions.

Monica leaned back on the sofa, casually turned on the TV, and found some boring variety show to watch.

The people on screen were laughing and making noise, the sound chaotic, yet strangely bringing her a bit of peace.

Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Hugging a pillow, her body curled up into a ball, her consciousness gradually blurred, and finally she sank into sleep.

Shane came home early.

He pushed open the door to find only a dim floor lamp lit inside, the TV volume turned down low.

On the sofa, Monica was curled up, sleeping soundly, her long hair falling across her cheek, revealing a pale, vulnerable stretch of neck.

He paused mid-step, softened his breathing, and walked over to turn off the TV.

The room instantly quieted, leaving only her shallow breathing.

He didn't go to his room, but sat down on the carpet beside her, just quietly watching her.

The lamplight softened her facial features, stripping away her usual coldness and hardness, leaving only a completely unguarded softness.

He reached out his hand, his fingertips trembling almost imperceptibly, gently brushing away the stray hair from her cheek.

That delicate touch shot through his fingertips like an electric current, making his heart contract with the heat.

Five years.

He'd waited five years, and hated for five years.

"Monica," he leaned closer, his voice extremely low, like a sigh mixed with unresolved resentment, "you're really heartless."

Leaving just like that, without a word of explanation, throwing him aside alone, letting longing and unwillingness gnaw at him until he was unrecognizable.

The sleeping person seemed to sense something, her brows furrowing slightly, mumbling something unclear.

Shane's heart jumped to his throat. He held his breath and leaned even closer to make out those blurred syllables.

"...Don't go."

Those two words again.

His body instantly froze. Last time when she was drunk, she had also grabbed him like this, begging him not to leave.

Shane jerked his hand back as if burned, complex emotions churning in his eyes.

Who exactly was she saying these words to?

When the alarm went off on the cabinet, Shane realized with a start that he'd kept watch by the sofa all night.

He turned off the alarm, glanced at the time - it was time to apply her medicine.

He walked to the sofa, bent down, and gently patted her shoulder.

"Monica, wake up."

Monica was sleeping soundly. Disturbed, she hummed unhappily twice, turned over, buried her face in the pillow, her voice soft and sweet with a heavy nasal tone: "Mm... five more minutes..."

That playful, dependent look, like a lazy cat completely exposing its softest belly without any guard.

Shane's Adam's apple rolled heavily, his eyes instantly darkening.

She like this stirred the desire in his heart more than at any other time.

It took all his self-control to resist the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her fiercely.

He took a deep breath, his voice huskier than before: "Get up and apply the medicine, or the wounds will get infected."

Monica drowsily said "okay" but still didn't move.

Shane's patience ran out. He leaned down, his warm breath spraying on her ear, carrying a hint of dangerous warning: "If you don't get up, I'll use another way to wake you up."

Monica finally reluctantly opened her eyes. She rubbed them, still unable to distinguish reality from dreams, just instinctively nuzzling toward the source of warmth.

This unconscious intimate gesture completely ignited Shane's taut nerves.

"Monica!" He suddenly stood up, almost gritting his teeth as he squeezed out her name, "I'm giving you three minutes to fully wake up!"

With that, he rushed into the bathroom like he was escaping.

Soon, the sound of rushing water came from inside.

Monica was startled awake by his shout.

She sat up in confusion, looking at the tightly closed bathroom door and the loud sound of water inside, until that wire in her brain finally connected with a "snap."

He... he went to take a cold shower again?

Realizing what had happened, Monica's face instantly turned red enough to drip blood.

She hugged the pillow, wishing she could bury herself in it.

When Shane came out again, he'd already changed into fresh casual clothes. The cold water had suppressed his heat, and he'd returned to that cool, restrained appearance.

But Monica didn't dare look at him anymore. She kept her head down, nervously wringing the hem of her clothes, her cheeks burning hot.

Shane looked at her quail-like appearance, a faint smile flashing in his eyes, but he didn't call her out.

He knelt in front of her, unscrewed the ointment, and instructed in a flat tone: "Pull up your shirt."

Monica's body went stiff as a board. After fumbling for a long time, she slowly lifted the hem of her shirt a little, revealing the scrapes on her legs that had already formed light scabs.

Shane's fingertips, coated with cool ointment, carefully applied it to her wounds.

His movements were gentle, but Monica felt that patch of skin was on fire, a tingling itch spreading from the point of contact all the way to her heart. She held her breath, even her toes curling up nervously.

"Lift your head." After treating the wounds on her legs, he commanded again.

Monica had no choice but to raise her head. His warm fingertips gently brushed aside her long hair, applying the ointment to her swollen scalp.

They were extremely close. She could clearly see his thick lashes and straight nose. The cool scent mixed with his shower gel fragrance penetrated her breathing from every angle.

The atmosphere was so charged it could almost drip water.