Chapter 20: The Gentle Side
The night was pitch black.
City lights flickered in the distance.
A steady rhythm of footsteps echoed as she moved from the rooftop to the elevator.
Her head throbbed painfully, and in her daze, she clung to the sleeve of the man holding her, mumbling, "Jackson, don't... don't come."
The man carried her into the elevator. Hearing her words, his body tensed for a moment. He then bent down, his lips brushing against her ear.
His breath felt like a feather lightly sweeping across her skin.
In a cold voice, he whispered, "I'm Jack, not your Jackson. Call me that again, and I'll drop you."
She shivered, vaguely recognizing the name Jack. The name made her shrink further into his arms, too scared to make another sound.
"That's better," he said, holding her securely, ultimately not dropping her.
She didn't want to be left alone, didn't want to curl up in a corner counting stars. She needed someone to lean on.
Anyone would do, as long as she had someone.
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed around her, tinged with anxiety.
Her head hurt so much she felt like she was dying.
She was gently laid down on a bed.
Half-awake, she felt a hand unbuttoning her clothes.
Piece by piece, her clothes were removed, making her feel colder and in more pain.
"Shit!" she heard a low curse, clear despite her pain and cold.
Her arm lifted involuntarily, her fingertips brushing against the man's face.
"Jackson, don't go, don't go." At first, she didn't want him to come, but now that he was here, she couldn't bear to lose his warmth.
"Shit!" he shouted.
But she wasn't fully conscious, her eyes tightly shut, treating everything as a dream.
In the dream, Jackson had come.
She was propped up, medicine brought to her lips, a hand forcing her to swallow it.
After taking the medicine, the man gently laid her back down.
Then, everything went quiet.
Alison fell asleep again.
Beside her, the man kept talking, but she didn't hear a word.
He had added a bit of a sedative to the medicine, so she slept soundly.
One of his arms remained around her waist, as if afraid she would disappear if he let go.
In the gentle night, on the bed, two people breathed together, their silhouettes close, their hearts seemingly drawing nearer, despite their individual worries.
When Alison woke up, there was an apple on the bedside table, and the smell of fried eggs wafted from the kitchen.
Rubbing her eyes, she realized she was back in the apartment, lying in Jack's bed.
The sheets were the same ones she had slept on the previous afternoon, seemingly unchanged.
A thick blanket covered her, still a bit cold, but much better.
Next to the apple was a piece of white paper with a bunch of colorful pills, enough to be taken in three doses.
She picked up the apple and the note beneath it. The note read: "Remember to eat something first, either the apple or the fried eggs, then take the medicine." The handwriting was strong, like musical notes, making her smile.
So, Jack wasn't a cold-blooded person after all.
She lay there quietly, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air.
She began to recall the events of the previous night: How did she get back here? Did she sleep in this bed all night? Who helped her take off her clothes?
These questions flashed through her mind, along with Jack's face.
Could it be that he wasn't with that woman last night, but instead went straight to the rooftop to bring her back?
But how did he know she was on the rooftop?
She remembered nothing, only the cold and the pain.
She lay there for a long time, listening to the ticking of the clock on the wall, watching the hands move slowly.
Sunlight streamed in through the window, and though her chest still hurt, her mood gradually improved.
The medicine, the apple, the smell of fried eggs in the kitchen—were they all signs that he wouldn't let her go again?
It was a good omen.
At least for the next few days, she wouldn't have to struggle through time alone.
Feeling better, she sat up, her chest hurting less.
She took a bite of the apple, savoring its sweetness, then went to the kitchen to eat the eggs he had fried. Though they were a bit burnt on both sides, they were better than cooking while injured. With a bit of seasoning, they tasted pretty good.
After eating, it was time for the medicine.
Except for the fever reducer he found, the other pills were from the hospital. He was quite thoughtful.
She didn't want to do anything, just lazily lounged on the couch, watching TV.
The sun was high in the sky, and the midday news reminded her it was time for lunch.
But she still didn't want to move.
Watching the news, she suddenly heard a familiar name.
It turned out that at ten o'clock this morning, Alexander Winston, the chairman of YD Construction, had returned to the city. He was met at the airport by Aidan Winston and Jack Winston, a rising star in the construction industry. Alexander's return was likely not just a family visit; everyone speculated it was about the distribution of assets. But this would have to wait for Alexander's own response.
Alison heard this and the news moved on to another topic.
She shook her head, chuckling softly. None of this had anything to do with her.
But she thought, Jack probably wouldn't be back early today, at least not until he spent some time with his grandfather.
And even if he had time, he might not want to come back to the apartment to take care of her, the patient.
As she was lost in these thoughts, the doorbell rang.
Alison slowly got up, walked to the door, and looked through the peephole. Outside stood a smiling young girl holding a lunchbox.
"Did you get the wrong place?" Alison asked kindly, not opening the door yet.
"No mistake, I checked the address. A gentleman asked me to deliver this lunchbox to you. Could you please open the door and take it?" the girl said.
Alison's heart skipped a beat. Besides Jack, the only other person living here was the guy who had taken those photos of her.
It seemed she had no choice but to accept the lunchbox.
She took it, and the girl smiled at her, eyes full of envy. "Your boyfriend is really handsome!"
With that, the girl turned and left in a hurry.
Alison blushed. Jack wasn't her boyfriend, not even a secret lover.
Opening the lunchbox, a delicious aroma wafted out. Inside were meat and chicken legs, clearly not ordinary, seemingly prepared just for her.
Oh well, might as well eat it, no point in wasting it.
As she ate, she glanced at the phone on the table, hoping it would ring.
She really wanted to say, "Thank you," to Jack.