Just as Charlotte Thompson was feeling suffocated, the man reluctantly let her go. There was a touch of tenderness in his eyes and, subtly, a hint of heartache in his tone.
"No more crying," he said. "I didn’t tell you all of this to make you cry."
At his words, Charlotte hurriedly sat up, hastily pulled out a couple of tissues from the bedside table to wipe her face. Her eyes were still red. She turned away, giving a light cough and quickly said, "I’m going to wash my face."
With that, she hastily escaped from the charged atmosphere. ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by novel·fiɾe·net
Justin Battleson gently sat up, leaning against the pillow behind him. He watched Charlotte’s retreating figure - no matter how you looked, it seemed like a hasty retreat - and felt inexplicably pleased. The gloominess in his heart, which had been accumulating for days, seemed to be swept away by sunshine.
He hooked his lips into a smile and looked out the window.
The sun outside was just right, and a few birds were perched on tree branches, occasionally making crisp chirps.
Everything was incredibly beautiful.
Meanwhile, Charlotte had embarrassedly entered the bathroom. She looked in the mirror at her own red eyes and flushed cheeks, harshly slapping her own face as if dissatisfied.
It was a kiss scene, wasn’t it? It’s not like she hadn’t seen it before!
After all, when she had first arrived in Ashton, Henry Thompson had told her that it was an open-minded country where people expressing their love and kissing could be seen everywhere she turned.
She’d never eaten pork, but she’d certainly seen a pig run! Hence, at that time, she had managed to witness everything without her face turning red and her heart pounding.
Jordan Thompson had even remarked that her skin had become thick. She even began to doubt herself at that point.
Until now, with her head on the verge of exploding, did Charlotte finally dare to confirm: she still blushed and her heart still pounded when she imagined herself as the protagonist in those scenarios.
Palette touched her burning face; an explanation was surfacing in her heart, struggling to be voiced, but she forced it back down.
She had been following the rules for too long; she wanted to be brave once.
Perhaps it’s love then, she thought.
Only in front of the one we love would we behave : blush and have a racing heartbeat.
Only now did she have to admit to herself that she was in love with him.
As soon as this idea sprang up, the familiar face of another man followed.
Charlotte’s eyes fell, a feeling of guilt welled up in her heart.
No matter the past or the present, she had always been unfairly to him.
At this point, even she didn’t know whether she should accept Justin Battleson or maintain the status quo, even if it was to slightly alleviate the guilt in her heart.
Now, Charlotte finally understood what it means to be caught between a rock and a hard place.
Palette leaned her hands on both sides of the sink, feeling the warmth emanating from her face, then splashed some water on it. Once her temperature had dropped a bit, she wiped the water droplets falling off her face with a tissue, took several deep breaths, fixed her facial expression, and then opened the door to leave.
When she entered the sickroom, Justin Battleson’s gaze was still fixed out the window, his ethereal and laid-back expression was something Palette had never seen before.
Charlotte paused for a moment, taking a few soft steps forward, and followed his gaze to look out the window.
Two birds nestled together on the tree branch, their feathers fluttered by the breeze. Yet they remained motionless, seemingly in their own world.
Unintentionally, Charlotte became somewhat lost in the scene.