NovelEnglishThose eyes...
Lizetta Gardenia's heart skipped a beat, her grip on the glass of water loosening until it slipped.
Crash!
The glass shattered on the floor, hot water splashing everywhere.
"Careful!"
The man's voice was a stern shout, moving swiftly to Lizetta's side a second before the boiling water could reach
her.
With a strong arm, he pulled Lizetta towards him, spinning around to move her out of harm's way.
"What happened?"
"Did you get burned?"
Dora rushed out at the sound, her question overlapping with the man's concerned voice from above.
Dora hurried forward, quickly moving Lizetta behind her, eyeing the man in front of them warily.
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Lizetta, now away from the man, felt her limbs trembling slightly.
Her face was pale as she looked up at him.
He stepped back, bowing his head slightly, his brows furrowed as he looked at her with a mix of surprise and
polite concern.
Lizetta noticed a scar by his right eye, realizing he didn't quite resemble Remington Dashiell.
His pupils were a stormy grey-blue, suggesting mixed heritage. That familiar, intense gaze she thought she saw
must have been her imagination.
Moreover, during the emergency, Dora spoke in English, while the man had been using the local dialect
throughout.
People usually revert to their native language in moments of urgency.
Lizetta calmed her racing heart, trying to steady her nerves.
She figured she must still be unsettled by the news from Zion City, feeling a bit restless.
Lizetta shook her head at Dora, "I'm fine, just accidentally knocked over the glass. Fortunately, this gentleman
was quick to react and pulledaway, so | didn't get burned." She then turned to the tall figure of the man,
offering a polite smile of gratitude.
"Thank you for just now."
The man nodded, turning back to inspect the fireplace, crouching down.
Dora went to get cleaning supplies for the floor, while Lizetta poured herself another glass of water.
She approached him, bending down to place the glass on a small table next to the fireplace, holding her belly as
she was about to head back to her room when the man suddenly spoke. "Must be hard, carrying a baby, huh?"
Lizetta paused, feeling a stir of emotion.
She looked at him, but his
expression was neutral, seemingly making casual conversation before adding, "My wife is also pregnant. Due to
sreasons, | can't be there to look after her, so...
He shook his head, a look of helplessness crossing his face.
Lizetta's heart eased at his words. His earlier actions must have been driven by thoughts of his own wife.
She gently touched her belly, smiling softly.
"Being pregnant is always tough. The physical changes and hormonal swings can take their toll..."
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She looked up with a smile,
continuing, "But becoming a mother is also the most joyful and strongest thing a woman can experience. We
have an old saying back home, in becoming a mother, a woman becomes mighty."
Pregnant women might be fragile but also incredibly strong. Mothers endure any hardship for their child's well-
being. Everything is worth it as long as the child grows up healthy. | believe your wife feels the sway, taking
good care of herself and the baby."
Remington looked up at her, her hair gently swaying.
As she spoke, her hands were gently caressing her belly, her expression serene and lovely.
She seemed to radiate light.
There she was, right in front of him, unaware of how much he longed to stand up and embrace her tightly. To
share his longing and concerns.
To tell her he wished to be by her side, to take care of her, to look forward to the arrival of Daisy together.
But he dared not. His accidental slip had already startled her.
Seeing her reaction, so intense, her complexion turning ashen.
She had no desire for a reunion, no wish for his intrusion.
This realization weighed heavily on Remington, like a boulder on his chest.
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