RedNovelChapter 471
Sylvia slept fitfully, tossing and turning, haunted by a gnawing sense of dread- like there was a guillotine hanging
over her head.
Somewhere between dreams and waking, she felt a gentle touch on her cheek. Still half-asleep, she blinked up at
the man leaning over her, his fingertips tracing her jaw. That's when she realized: this had to be a dream. Only in
her dreams could she face Rupert with anything close to calm.
She stared at him, mumbling, "My stomach's killing me."
The words barely left her lips before she curled up, knees to her chest.
Rupert brushed his thumb over the split in her lip, scolding softly, "Still getting yourself in trouble, huh?"
Sylvia shook her head, suddenly meek as a lamb.
His hand paused for a beat, his eyes darkening as he studied her face. Then, without another word, he pulled her
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtgently against his chest. His hand pressed against her stomach, warm and steady, rubbing slow circles.
She had no idea how long they stayed like that. Finally, Rupert leaned down, his voice a low rumble against her
ear. "Feeling any better?"
"Yeah," she whispered, shivering as his breath tickled her skin. She reached up to scratch at her ear and winced
as her arm brushed a raw, stinging patch.
Her hand barely lowered before Rupert caught it, his grip firm but not harsh. He started rolling up her sleeve, and
though Sylvia instinctively tried to pull away, he was too strong. Still, if this was a dream, she figured she might
as well let it play out.
After all, none of it was real. No one really cared how she was doing.
Rupert peeled back her sleeve, eyes flickering as he took in the red, angry marks crisscrossing her arm. He
grabbed the ointment from her nightstand, squeezed sonto his fingers, and dabbed it gently on her wounds.
The sting made Sylvia recoil, but Rupert held her hand tight, his voice low and steady. "Almost done."
He softened his touch, and suddenly Sylvia's eyes stung for a whole different reason.
Rupert frowned. "Still hurts?"
That little bit of kindness broke something in her. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she nodded, hard. "It hurts. It
really hurts... | just— It hurts so much."
Rupert's expression shifted; he set the ointment aside and pulled her into a hug. But the tighter he held her, the
more suffocated she felt—like a fish gasping for air, desperate and flailing, but never really breathing. She was
trapped.
Through the blur of tears, Sylvia pleaded, half-asleep, "Please... just letgo, okay?"
Rupert's jaw set, his arms tightening. "No."
Sylvia twisted away, but exhaustion dragged her under, and she slipped back into a restless sleep.
Rupert laid her gently on the bed, then turned and picked up the ointment tube. The label was from St. Mary's
Hospital.
He crossed the room to the window and dialed Chris.
"Did anything unusual happen when Sylvia was at the hospital today?"
"...No, not really."
"You sure?" Rupert's voice was ice-cold.
"| talked to her doctor. It's just an allergy. She scratched herself in ber sleep, so they suggested she get an
allergy test. She wasn't thrilled, but they gave her a prescription for the wounds."
"Alright. I'm hanging up."
"Wait." Chris's voice stopped him. "You're about to get engaged, man. Isn't this a little... inappropriate? Maybe
you should back off, before people start talking."
RI
.,.
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