Chapter 127 He Doesn't Even Understand Her
She could not begin to guess what was on Alexander's mind, nor how long this fragile warmth—the kind that made Caroline feel safe—might last.
But she said nothing. Only sighed quietly, helping Caroline lie back down and tucking the blanket around her with care. "Rest for now. I will be done soon."
Kenna worked efficiently. Within minutes, she had Caroline's belongings packed, then brought over a wheelchair and eased her into it.
The wheelchair rolled slowly into the spacious, elegant master bedroom.
Alexander was not there. Instead, a stranger—a doctor—was waiting.
Caroline glanced at Kenna, puzzled.
Kenna explained at once. "Mrs. Hamilton, this is the doctor Mr. Hamilton called. He noticed you did not sleep well last night, that you had nightmares. So he brought in a specialist—a psychiatrist—to check on you. The doctor will prescribe something to help you sleep better."
Caroline's cheeks warmed. She looked down, suddenly shy.
He had noticed her nightmares.
The doctor stepped forward, spoke briefly with Caroline, asked about her recent condition, then drew a small vial of blood. He said he would take it back for analysis to prescribe the right medication.
"I have a good sense of your situation now, Mrs. Hamilton. Do not worry. I will create a treatment plan for you. Medication is only part of it—the most important thing is to stay calm and rest well." The doctor smiled, then left with his medical bag.
Kenna walked him out. When she returned, she moved to help Caroline onto the bed.
But Caroline hesitated.
She looked down at her leg, then at the bed—clean, clearly freshly made. Her fingers tightened on the wheelchair's armrest.
"Kenna... maybe I should not lie down yet?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "My wound is not healed. I will get the sheets dirty. Alexander will mind."
"Mrs. Hamilton, do not think like that. Mr. Hamilton, he—" Kenna began to reassure her.
The bedroom door opened.
Alexander's tall figure appeared in the doorway.
His eyes immediately found Caroline in the wheelchair, and Kenna mid-sentence.
"What are you talking about?" He walked closer.
Kenna explained quickly. "Mr. Hamilton, Mrs. Hamilton is worried her wound will stain the sheets."
"Kenna..." Caroline shot her a reproachful look, her face flushing deeper, but she could not stop her from speaking.
Alexander's gaze dropped to Caroline's leg.
White gauze wrapped her calf and knee, with a few spots darkened where the wound had seeped through. It looked messy. Unsightly.
Caroline followed his gaze, saw the state of her leg, and shrank back, even more self-conscious.
"Maybe... I should wait a few days before moving in. At least until the wound scabs over..."
Alexander did not respond.
He walked straight toward her and bent down.
Before Caroline could react, she felt herself being lifted, cradled in his arms.
She gasped, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck.
Before she could process what was happening, Alexander had carried her to the bed and set her down gently.
"No! It will really stain!" Caroline touched the mattress and immediately tried to push herself up.
A large hand pressed firmly on her shoulder.
"Lie down. Do not move." Alexander's voice came from above her.
Caroline froze. She did not dare move again, curling up carefully on the bed.
Alexander glanced at her but said nothing more. He turned to Kenna, who was still standing there, stunned.
Kenna caught on immediately. "Mr. Hamilton, Mrs. Hamilton, I will go check on breakfast."
She left quickly, closing the door with a soft click.
The spacious master bedroom was suddenly empty—just the two of them.
The air felt different. Charged.
This was not the first time they had been alone.
It had happened before, when Alexander was sick, in the guest room. They had even been more intimate then.
But they had never simply existed in the same space like this—quietly.
Especially not now, not when their relationship had become so tangled, so complicated by secrets Alexander could not name, feelings he could not untangle.
The awareness of being alone together made Alexander feel something rare.
Uncomfortable.
He did not know what to say. Did not know what to do.
Small talk? Share feelings?
Such things might come naturally to a normal married couple, but they had never existed between him and Caroline.
He did not even know her.
Did not know what she liked. What she hated. What she thought about.
For five years, he had never tried to find out.
Now, he had the urge to ask—but he did not know where to start, nor if he truly wanted to know.
In the end, Alexander said nothing.
He turned and walked to the long sofa on the other side of the room, sat down, picked up the tablet from the side table, unlocked it, and began going through emails.
Caroline stayed frozen on the bed, watching him settle into work, not daring to make a sound.
She had nothing to do, so she looked around the room.
Walls painted in cool tones. Clean-lined furniture. Through the window, a lush garden.
Finally, her gaze landed on the wide terrace connected to the bedroom.
The terrace was large, its floor laid with tiles of dark stone. A few tall potted plants stood along the edge, but otherwise it was empty—just sunlight spilling across the floor.
Alexander was looking at the tablet, but he was watching her out of the corner of his eye.
When he saw her staring at the terrace, he swiped the screen idly and asked, as if it did not matter, "What are you looking at?"
Caroline snapped out of it, biting her lip, a little embarrassed. "It feels like... something is missing out there."
"Missing what?" Alexander looked up and followed her gaze to the terrace.
"A tea table. Two chairs." Caroline's eyes traced invisible shapes across the terrace.
"And... a vase of flowers on the table. Nothing extravagant—just whatever is in season, fresh, with dew still on them. You would be able to smell them."
Alexander frowned slightly, puzzled. "You want to drink tea out there? The terrace is for looking at the view, getting fresh air. If you want tea, you can have it downstairs, in the living room or the dining room."
"It would not feel the same." Caroline shook her head.
"The living room is too busy. People are always passing through. It is not quiet enough. You cannot truly enjoy tea there. And it is for guests. It is not... private."