NovelEnglishChapter 265: Overcby the weight of their conversation, Brian felt drained. He didn't respond-he simply turned away and silently left the bathroom.
Meanwhile, Rachel wrapped herself in a towel and methodically dried her hair. After a few minutes, she emerged, moving with a detached air toward the wardrobe to pick out her clothes.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt"What are you doing?" Brian's voice was low, his grip firm as he clasped her wrist, his gaze unwavering.
Rachel exhaled softly, her exhaustion taking precedence over any desire to protest. "If we're saying goodbye, let's make it final," she murmured. "My hair's dry. I'll leave as soon as I've changed." Brian's fingers tightened instinctively, his voice rough with suppressed emotion. "Stay. Just for tonight." "No," Rachel replied, her voice steady yet quiet. She couldn't bear the thought of prolonging this undefined connection, where every moment felt like a fragile thread threatening to unravel.
"You have my word; I won't cross any lines.” His voice was firm yet tinged with desperation. When Rachel remained silent, he pressed further. “It's too late to go out alone. It isn't safe.” Sighing, her gaze lowered as she considered her words. "Fine," she finally agreed.
Still draped in a towel, she retreated to change into her nightclothes. When she emerged, Brian was already on the bed, his imposing figure stretched across the mattress. He had drawn back the blankets on her side, a silent invitation.
Accepting the inevitability of the situation, Rachel slid under the covers, her voice barely audible. "Thank you. I'm really tired, so I'll rest now." Brian's lips parted as if to speak, but the words seemed to dissolve before they could form. In the end, he simply nodded. "Alright." Rachel settled into the bed, the soft rustling of the sheets the only sound in the otherwise still room. She pulled the covers gently over herself, the warmth of the fabric a brief comfort against the chill of the night. Her body, once lively and full of energy, now felt delicate and fragile, worn down by illness, travel, and the relentless toll of dialysis. In this moment, she felt smaller than ever, a tiny figure curled near the edge of the bed as though trying to take up as little space as possible.
Brian's hand moved instinctively as if to pull her closer, but the memory of her earlier resistance stopped him in his tracks. His hand hovered briefly, then fell slowly to his side, the weight of unspoken words and past hesitation hanging in the air. He cleared his throat, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm"You don't need to sleep on the edge," he said, his voice softer than usual. “There's plenty of room, and the covers are wide enough. You can move a little closer." Check out more on glov☐☐☐om Rachel tightened her grip on the edge of the blanket, her fingers pale against the fabric. "Thank you, but it's really not necessary," she whispered.
She had always struggled with a deep sense of insecurity. The notion of sharing a bed with him used to bring her a kind of quiet solace, but now it felt almost foreign. Back then, she would often find herself gravitating toward him in the dark, her body instinctively reaching out for the warmth he emitted. Her limbs would seek him out, weaving around him as if drawn by sunspoken need.
It wasn't just a matter of comfort. She was perpetually cold, shivering even in the warmth of thick blankets.
But it went deeper than that. There car was an innate fear that gripped her heart in the quiet hours of the night. She was terrified that this fragile sense of connection might slip away, that the world they had built together might be an illusion. That fear had once compelled Rachel to cling to Brian, her arms encircling him like an anchor, as if she might lose him in her sleep. He had been her reassurance, her constant. But now, everything had shifted.
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