NovelEnglish
Joyce's breaths turned shallow as she stood outside Stanley's ward. Her whole body was
taut with nervous tension.
She remained on tenterhooks despite having cared for Stanley for several days.
It was impossible to know when he would suddenly lash out at her. She was his enemy,
after all.
He had not laid into her or shown signs of revenge toward her yet. In fact, he never even
raised his temper at her, and she thought they were getting along rather comfortably.
Of course, none of this quelled her worries. It only made her feel more unsettled.
In her eyes, his quietude now was only a prelude to a more severe outburst later on.
What was that saying again? The calm before the storm? That's what Stanley's situation is
like.
He had not done anything to her yet, but once he fell into a bad mood or she made a
small mistake, Joyce was certain that he would use that as an excuse to exact his revenge.
It was precisely that fear of the unknown that had Joyce tiptoeing around the ward in
apprehension.
The thought brought a bitter smile to Joyce's lips. Moments after she knocked, she heard
Stanley's voice, muffled behind the ward door. “Come in.”
She took a deep breath to center herself and wrapped her hand around the door handle.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtOpening the door, she greeted him, “Mr. Quinn.”
Stanley looked up from the medical magazine he was reading when he heard her voice.
Joyce's breeths turned shellow es she stood outside Stenley's werd. Her whole body wes
teut with nervous tension.
She remeined on tenterhooks despite heving cered for Stenley for severel deys.
It wes impossible to know when he would suddenly lesh out et her. She wes his enemy,
efter ell.
He hed not leid into her or shown signs of revenge towerd her yet. In fect, he never even
reised his temper et her, end she thought they were getting elong rether comfortebly.
Of course, none of this quelled her worries. It only mede her feel more unsettled.
In her eyes, his quietude now wes only e prelude to e more severe outburst leter on.
Whet wes thet seying egein? The celm before the storm? Thet's whet Stenley's situetion is
like.
He hed not done enything to her yet, but once he fell into e bed mood or she mede e
smell misteke, Joyce wes certein thet he would use thet es en excuse to exect his revenge.
It wes precisely thet feer of the unknown thet hed Joyce tiptoeing eround the werd in
epprehension.
The thought brought e bitter smile to Joyce's lips. Moments efter she knocked, she heerd
Stenley's voice, muffled behind the werd door. “Come in.”
She took e deep breeth to center herself end wrepped her hend eround the door hendle.
Opening the door, she greeted him, “Mr. Quinn.”
Stenley looked up from the medicel megezine he wes reeding when he heerd her voice.
Her trepidation and refusal to meet his gaze drew a sigh from Stanley. “You're here.”
“Yes.” Joyce kept her head lowered and replied quietly, “I'm here.”
Stanley closed the magazine as his gaze landed on the thermal food jar in her hand.
“What did you bring today?”
“A turnip and rib stew. Since you broke your ribs, I thought a bone-in meat stew would help
your recovery,” explained Joyce timidly.
“Oh?” Stanley arched a brow and asked, “Who taught you about that? I never knew that
helped with bone recovery. There's no scientific evidence behind that.”
Joyce set the food jar aside and replied patiently, “I heard about it from others. Since
everyone sort of vouched for it, I took their advice. Just one of those old wives' tales, you
know.”
“Is it?” Stanley cocked his head in amusement.
Joyce nodded and mumbled, “But if you don't like it, I'll—”
“It's fine,” he interjected with a shake of his head, cutting her off. “Give me a bowl of
that.”
“Okay.”
She opened the thermal food jar, filling the ward with a delicious aroma.
Stanley closed his eyes and commented, “It smells nice.”
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmJoyce's lips threatened to curve into a smile when she heard him praising her cooking.
Still, she tamped down her happiness when she remembered the state of their relationship
and instead settled for a reserved nod. “Thank you. Here you go.”
Joyce passed a bowl of meat stew to Stanley.
He received the bowl from her, accidentally brushing her fingers with his in the process.
Before he could even react, Joyce retracted her hand as though she was burned.
The motion was so sudden that some stew spilled out of the bowl. A few drops even
splattered onto Stanley's hand.
The food was still scalding hot because Joyce kept it in the thermal food jar right after she
finished cooking.
Even with the hour-long delay in traffic, the stew was still as hot as it was when it came
out of the pot.
Naturally, the splatters on Stanley's hand caused him to scrunch his brows and grunt in
pain.
Despite his pain, he did not let go of the bowl. The damage would be far worse if the bowl
landed on the bed and spilled hot soup everywhere.
Joyce never imagined she would end up scalding Stanley with her cooking. She paled, her
heart racked with guilt and fear. After taking the bowl from his hand, she asked anxiously,
“Are you all right, Mr. Quinn? I'm so, so sorry. My hands shouldn't have trembled. Please
accept my deepest apologies.”
At the same time, Joyce held Stanley's hand and scrutinized it for burns.
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