Chapter 989:
“Okay,” Dylan replied, his tone obedient, though his heart brimmed with quiet joy. She hadn’t called for a nurse; she’d chosen to tend to his wound herself. Gazing at the blood-stained bandage, he decided that it was a good thing the wound had split again. As Christina left the room, a sly smile curved his lips.
Moments later, Christina returned, medicine in hand. “It’s only a small reopening, nothing serious,” she reassured him while cleaning the wound with practiced care.
“This may sting a little. Bear with it.” She lifted the medicine, but when her eyes met Dylan’s, softened with rare gentleness, she faltered for a moment.
Almost immediately, his gaze cooled again, restoring the aloof mask she knew so well.
To her, that distant, stoic Dylan was the one she recognized. Cold and unapproachable, he was striking enough. The fleeting warmth in his eyes was dangerously captivating.
“Alright,” Dylan answered coolly, though his gaze never left her face as she treated his wound with meticulous focus.
Bit by bit, the frost in his eyes melted again, and a faint smile touched his lips. How he wished this moment would linger.
When she finished, Christina bound the wound with swift efficiency. “All done.”
“Thank you.”
“No— I should be the one apologizing. It’s my fault your wound tore open again.”
“You seem rather skilled at treating wounds…” Dylan began, but Christina quickly cut him off. “I got used to it after tending to Brendon’s injuries so often.”
She was afraid Dylan might suspect her true identity as the famed healer, King, so she deflected with the mention of her ex-husband.
Actually, Dylan had only been curious if her proficiency came from her own scars. But she had no idea of his thoughts and spoke of Brendon instead.
𝕋𝕣𝕦𝕖 𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞: 𝕘ⲁ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝕖𝗅𝕤⫶ⅽ𝗼𝗺
At the sound of that name, Dylan’s expression turned cold. Beneath the covers, his hand curled into a fist, a sharp pang gripping his heart.
A sense of crisis, seeping from the depths of Dylan’s heart, grew increasingly intense, hardening his resolve to stay vigilant and use every necessary means. Was there any chance Christina would want to visit Brendon, who, as luck would have it, seemed to be right here in this hospital?
At this thought, Dylan’s thin lips parted ever so slightly. “I need to use the restroom.”
Christina stepped in quickly, offering her hand to help him get up. “I can manage on my own,” Dylan declined her assistance. Letting her help would ruin the plan he’d rehearsed in his mind a thousand times.
Dylan eased himself off the hospital bed, but the second he tried to stand, his legs seemed to give way, and he collapsed straight into Christina’s arms. The ashen pallor of his face lent credence to the fall—there was no room for doubt in Christina’s mind, only the quiet certainty of a man too frail to feign.
“Careful!” Christina gasped, panic flaring as she reached out and wrapped her arms around him tightly.
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