Chapter 27


    Chapter 27 I Think I’m Sick


    Idris held his phone as his dark eyes bored into me. He did not answer it. I had no clue what he was


    thinking, but Moore seemed determined to get through to him. If he did not pick up, she would


    simply keep calling.


    Finally, he could not resist any longer. He answered the call. I had no idea what was said on the other


    end of the line.


    He got out of bed, went to the closet, and emerged in different clothes. Iy in bed, silently watching


    him hurriedly grab his coat and head out.


    I watched him leave in silence, all expectations in my heart crumbling. My heart was filled with


    bitterness and self–mockery.


    As Idris reached the bedroom door, he seemed to remember that I was his wife. He paused, looked


    back at me, and said, “Moore’s scared of thunder. Sorry, I need to go to her. You should get some


    rest.”


    I did not respond. Anyway, he left too quickly to catch anything I might have wanted to say.


    The thunder outside grew increasingly loud. I clutched the nket tightly as the sound echoed through


    the empty bedroom, its reverberations lingering for a long time.


    Moore was afraid of thunder, he said?


    He remembered her fears and could not bear to let her face them alone. He would go to her tofort


    her.


    In any case, who was not afraid of thunder? Ever sinceing back from the border five years ago, I


    had never dared to close my eyes on a stormy night. The moment I did, all I would see were the


    severed limbs and mountains of corpses from my time in captivity. How could Idris not understand? Oh,


    I forgot. He would never understand. He could not see those things back then. Only I could.


    The rain outside grew heavier. There was no way I was sleeping tonight. The cruel memories and my


    current heartache were too much. They made my entire b*dy ache. I reopened the previously–closed


    window and stood on the balcony, letting the cold wind and freezing rain batter me.


    Physical pain sometimes relieved mental torment. This was the only method I had found over thest


    five years to alleviate the pain of the torture from my past.


    I knew I was sick. Terribly sick.


    When the bedroom door was pushed open again, I had already been frozen stiff from the cold. Hearing


    the noise, I turned around.


    It was Idris. He hade back.


    Seeing me standing by the window and punishing myself, his expression changed drastically. He


    strode toward me, his handsome face dark and violent, looking almost as if he had gone mad. He


    yanked me back from the balcony and almost screamed, “Yvette, have you gone mad?!”


    I looked at him, my face frozen, unable to show any expression. I wanted to smile at him but could not


    muster the strength. I could only rasp, “Why’d youe back?”


    His eyes were bloodshot. He roughly pulled me into the bathroom without answering me, and


    unceremoniously twisted the switch for the shower, letting the hot water pummel me.


    When he reached to remove my clothes, I dodged him. My voice was hoarse as I said, “I can do it


    myself.”


    He was probably angry by now. He red at me and sneered. “Is there anything of yours I haven’t


    seen before? Why pretend to be chaste?”


    The hot water warmed my b*dy a little. I looked at him and said, “Can you leave? I want to take a


    bath.”


    He looked at me. His deep, cold eyes almost devoured me. I could tell that my earlier self–harm had


    angered him. Thankfully, he was well–mannered enough that he would never hit a woman, even


    when angry.


    He gave me a cold nce before finally leaving the bathroom.


    After the bath, I managed to regain some warmth in my b*dy. I stepped out of the bathroom to find


    another person in the bedroom–the Youngs‘ family doctor.


    Seeing me, Idris immediately ordered, “Lie down on the bed.”


    I opened my mouth, wanting to say something, but his face was so dark that I thought better of it and


    lay down. The doctor then performed a full–b*dy check on me.


    Nothing was found to be wrong, so I was just advised to drink some soup to warm up and to keep


    myself warm in general. Then, he left.


    After he left, it was already past midnight, so I dozed off shortly after, vaguely aware of Idris giving me


    something to drink. However, I was too sleepy to care.


    The next day when I woke up, Idris was still asleep. This man was so handsome when he was


    sleeping,cking his usual stern and cold demeanor. He actually looked quite pleasant.


    I could not help but stare at him for a bit longer. Just as I was daydreaming, the phone on the bedside


    table rang. It was Idris‘. Hearing the noise, he slightly furrowed his brows and murmured with his eyes


    closed, “You answer it.”


    I was startled for a moment, not immediately understanding. Then, I realized he wanted me to pick up


    the call.


    I looked at the phone. The caller ID showed it was Moore. I raised an eyebrow and looked at Idris, who


    was pretending to sleep. “It’s Moore calling.”


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    “Mm. You answer it,” he said, his voice low and restrained, showing no particr reaction.


    I hesitated for a moment before answering. Moore’s soft voice came through. “Iddy, where are you? I


    waited for you at the old manor all night. My stomach hurts so badly.”


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