CHAPTER 123: CHAPTER 123: MEMORIES (23)

He finished unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt and then grasped Florence Fuller’s hand, which indeed felt cold.

He looked helplessly at the girl in front of him and knelt down to roll up her pant leg.

Florence glanced at the man squatting in front of her, dressed in a well-tailored, luxurious coffee-colored suit, seemingly indifferent to the dirt that stained her clothes as he clung to her.

Then she looked up and saw Clara Fuller staring fixedly, wrinkling her brow with displeasure: "What are you looking at?"

Clara snapped back to reality, her gaze towards Florence dimming.

Who was this man, and how did Florence come to know him?

Remarkably handsome, with an extraordinary demeanor.

The Monrose Family!

Clara was taken aback.

She actually...

Ethan Harper had already let down her pant leg, stood up, and saw Clara Fuller standing there. His face was still gentle but full of distance: "Excuse me, you’re in the way."

The car behind honked twice.

Clara’s gaze fell on Ethan Harper’s face, unable to hide her admiration, and Florence felt a surge of anger, leaping forward protectively in front of Ethan, warning coldly: "Keep looking!"

Clara shrank back, her usual vulnerability showing: "Florence... I just came to call you back for Mom."

Though she was speaking to Florence, her gaze couldn’t help but drift towards Ethan.

Florence scoffed coldly: "Always pretending! Aren’t you tired of putting on this act every day?"

Clara seemed frightened by her words, blinking innocently: "I... I’m just..."

"Florence knows," Ethan interjected, holding Florence’s hand as he looked at Clara and said calmly, "Please go back."

Seizing the chance to respond, Clara quickly said, "Florence has been coming here for over two years, often bothering you. I’m here to apologize on her behalf..."

Ethan pulled on Florence’s hand, leading her inside.

Realizing he was completely ignoring her, Clara bit her lip in frustration as the car behind honked again.

Clara quickly stepped aside.

Pulled along by Ethan, Florence saw several bunches of flowers that hadn’t been planted yet near the flower bed. She withdrew her hand: "Hold on. I’m not finished planting."

Ethan accompanied her over, Florence glanced at him: "You go ahead inside; I’ll finish planting these flowers and come in."

Ethan looked at her, saying nothing.

Florence rolled up her sleeves, just as she planted the flowers into the soil, Ethan’s tall figure came down beside her, rolling up his sleeves: "Let’s do it together."

The two figures stood closely, occasionally glancing at each other, both with smiles at the corners of their lips.

Abigail Monrose finished her call and intended to continue planting; upon seeing them, she retreated back inside.

"Aunt Monrose said you left early today," Florence commented, noticing his formal attire, "Are you going to work?"

"Yes," Ethan replied, "Today’s occasion is quite important; I can’t miss it."

Recalling Ethan’s late nights working in his study even when he was wheelchair-bound, coupled with his family’s status, Florence fell silent.

After planting the last flower, they left the cleanup to the gardener and headed into the villa to wash their hands.

Once the mud on their hands was rinsed away, Florence used handwash, rubbing it in, Ethan reached out directly to hold her foam-covered hand.

His body enveloped hers, chest against back, Florence’s cheeks flushed as she looked at Ethan through the mirror.

Ethan held her hand, his slender fingers interlacing with hers, sometimes massaging gently, both their hands covered in foam, Florence let him clean them.

Ethan looked down at her, Florence sensed it and tilted her head slightly, leaning against his chest as she gazed up at him. This close proximity began to foster an intimate atmosphere.

Neither spoke, their entwined hands involuntarily tightened, their exchanged glances growing heated, seemingly moving closer by instinct, breaths mingled.

Florence’s gaze shifted from his eyes to his lips, unconsciously lifting her head slightly, their lips barely touched, hearts stirring.

Ethan’s eyes flickered, as he caught the brief touch, no longer suppressing his urge, he accurately captured her lips.

The veil over their relationship seemed torn in that moment.

Lips and breaths were claimed by the other, it was a gentle and meticulous kiss.

Florence’s whole strength leaned against him, feeling a bit physically weak, her cheeks burning hot.

They...

The girl in his arms was tender and charming, cheeks flushed, eyes shined bright, Ethan’s breath tightened somewhat, his nose brushing against her cheeks, dropping kiss after kiss.

Florence turned her head trying to avoid him, Ethan’s kiss landed on the warmth of her neck, she shivered, her voice trembling: "Wash hands..."

If Sister Dawson suddenly came in...

Ethan’s breath grew heavier, he blinked until the cold water splashed on his hands, regaining composure somewhat.

Washing away the foam, Ethan took out a dry towel to wipe Florence’s hands, his gaze unconsciously fell on her lips, soft and sweet.

Noticing Ethan’s gaze, Florence bit her lip, embarrassed: "Stop looking."

Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his voice deep: "I’m waiting for you."

I’m waiting for you.

Florence somewhat understood his words, but at the moment she just wanted to leave.

They had spent a long time washing their hands, soon outside Sister Dawson and Aunt Monrose might suspect something happened.

The more she thought, the more shy she became, withdrawing her hand: "I... I’ll go back to my room to change, don’t stay too long here."

Hurriedly turning to leave, her hand accidentally hit the sink, causing Ethan’s watch to fall to the ground, she clutched her hand in pain.

Abigail was about to knock outside the door, her heart tightened!

Could it be, could it be...

The sound was clear and crisp, Ethan quickly held her hand: "Let me see." He soothed: "It’s okay."

"It’s so painful!" Florence blew on her joints, whimpering softly, noticing the watch on the ground: "It’s broken."

The watch face down.

Abigail lowered her raised hand, lamenting how her usually composed son loses restraint with Florence.

Then the door opened.

Abigail was startled, now unsure whether to stay or leave, staring at her son.

Ethan saw her, momentarily stunned, then realized: "Mom, Florence hurt her hand."

"Ah!" Abigail reacted and saw them both still dressed fine, Florence holding her pained hand, Abigail quickly brought her inside: "Let Auntie look."

The joint of her hand was red, but movable, Sister Dawson went to get ice for her.

Florence truly felt like crying without tears, the romantic mood now shattered.