Chapter 1089


    Alone in her hospital room, Thssay back against a stack of pillows, her gaze fixed on the ceiling


    as she tried to summon sleep. Despite the day''s exhaustion and the relief of having her IV drip finally


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    removed, sleep remained elusive.


    Suddenly, a noise at the door startled her. After everything she had been through, her senses were on


    high alert. Tension gripped her as she called out, "Who''s there?"


    The door swung open, spilling a sliver of light from the hallway into the dim room, casting a gentle glow


    around the edges of the darkness.


    A tall, imposing figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the light. The man was dressed in a


    tailored ck suit, with matching trousers and shirt that entuated hismanding presence.


    Even in silence, Lysander''s aura was palpable—his mere presence seemed to fill the room with a


    deep, oppressive force.


    Thssa held her breath as she recognized Lysander''s striking good looks, his sharp features causing


    her heart to flutter uncontrobly.


    What could he want at thiste hour?


    The memory of his anger earlier that day, his fingers tight on her chin, made her grip the sheets in


    nervous anticipation.


    Lysander advanced into the room without turning on the lights, stopping beside Thssa''s bed. The


    weight of his presence was overwhelming, and she stiffened, watching him warily as he loomed over


    her.


    He reached out a hand, and in a panic, Thssa turned her head away, desperate to avoid his touch.


    Lysander''s hand paused momentarily, his piercing gaze locking onto her. Eventually, he gently used his


    index finger to coax her face back toward him, while his thumb tenderly traced over the bruised skin of


    her chin.


    The rough touch of his thumb, warm against her skin, made the sore area throb with a mixture of pain


    and a strange heat, as if igniting a fire within her.


    Her voice tight with caution, Thssa demanded, "Lysander, what do you think you''re doing?"


    Sensing her guarded tone, Lysander''s eyes softened with a hint of concern. "Does it hurt?" he asked,


    looking directly into her eyes.


    Thssa was taken aback. She had expected another outburst from him, not this low, maic voice


    inquiring about her pain.


    Did he not know how much force he had used, and how much it had hurt her?


    Annoyed, she retorted, "Why don''t you try it yourself and find out?"


    Lysander hesitated, then took her hand in his.


    Her wrist caught in his firm grasp, Thssa tried to pull away, her voice rising in rm, "What are you


    doing?"


    But Lysander was unyielding, lifting her hand to his chin and instructing her in a husky voice, "Go on,


    squeeze. Use all your strength. Let me feel it."


    Thssa''s eyes widened in disbelief, her fingers involuntarily gripping his chiseled jawline, which


    exuded a raw, masculine charm.


    She knew that no matter how hard she tried, she was unlikely to cause him any difort. Trying to


    pinch him would only be masochistic.


    With a swift motion, Thssa pulled her hand back. "Leave me be. I want to sleep!"


    "You don''t want to see me?" Lysander queried, a tinge of something indefinable in his voice.