CHAPTER 44: CHAPTER 44: SLEEPING TOGETHER

Dinner is still separate; he’s eating in his room, while Shannon Quinn eats in the living room.

After cleaning up the kitchen, Shannon Quinn stares vacantly at the bag on the coffee table.

The doctor told her before leaving that she needs to wash his wound and change the medication every night.

Gripping the medicine and gauze in her hands, she stands by his door for quite a while before raising her hand to knock.

"Can I come in?"

"Hm."

Shannon Quinn gently pushes open the door and sees him sitting against the headboard. When he sees her, he closes the book he’s holding and places it on the bedside.

She glances at it casually; it’s the special issue she released earlier.

Thinking he must be browsing out of boredom, she pays no further attention—the priority is to change his bandage.

"Um... I’m here to change your bandage."

"Okay." he says, already beginning to unbutton his shirt.

Though the man before her is her husband, Shannon Quinn still feels a bit shy.

She places the medicine and gauze on the bedhead, pointing outside saying, "I’ll go get some water."

Without waiting for Vincent Rhodes to respond, Shannon Quinn quickly turns around and exits.

She fills a basin with water, finds a clean towel, and when she returns to the room, Vincent Rhodes has already taken off his shirt and is unwrapping the gauze around his waist.

Looking at his physique, his muscle tone seems even more perfect than some regular people; he hardly seems like a man who spends years in a wheelchair.

Could it be he has an extraordinary personal trainer who customized a special fitness routine for him?

Shannon Quinn dismisses her scattered thoughts and walks over, wanting to help but feeling uncertain.

In her hesitation, Vincent Rhodes finishes unwrapping the gauze, prompting Shannon Quinn to quickly hand over a trash bin.

Her gaze rests on the wound on the left side of his abdomen, the stitches too numerous to count, resembling a fierce centipede, just looking at it hurts.

"Do you want me to clean it myself?"

Shannon Quinn snaps back to reality, bends down to wring out a towel from the basin, walks to the bedside, and hesitates at the sight of his wound.

Though not as bloody as that night, it still looks quite frightening.

"You... bear with it," she says, before cautiously placing the warm towel over his wound, intending to gauge his expression for signs of pain—but then recalls he’s wearing a mask.

Yet he makes no sound, indicating it falls within his tolerance. Shannon Quinn begins to gently move the towel, cleaning the wound.

Once done, she applies medication under his guidance and wraps the gauze anew.

It seems he’s quite familiar with these procedures, proficient as if he often does them himself.

Finishing up, Shannon Quinn isn’t sure what to do next, so she carries the basin out, tidies up, and returns to ask him, "Anything else I can help with?"

He gestures with his chin, casually saying two words: "Clothes."

"Oh!" She swiftly walks over, helping him into clean clothes; thinking he managed earlier, she only needs to lift them for him to slip into—but he doesn’t button up after it’s on.

She can’t leave halfway through dressing, so she sits at the bedside and painstakingly buttons his shirt one by one.

Nervous or otherwise, the more she rushes, the less she succeeds.

Vincent Rhodes watches her with a gentle smile, her bowed head focused on buttoning his shirt.

The first time he saw her, he simply thought her smile was beautiful, with a healing quality, never carefully considering her face.

Elegant brows and apricot eyes, long eyelashes particularly clear in her lowered gaze, a well-defined nose, tender rosy lips.

As his gaze descended, lingering on her slender, fair neck, collarbone...

The casual shirt neckline beneath which beauty shyly emerged, reminding him of that night.

His Adam’s apple bobbed once unnoticed; Shannon Quinn finally finished the last button, stood up, "Rest early, call me if you need anything, should I turn off the light?"

Without hearing his response, her wrist is suddenly seized; Shannon Quinn startled, reflexively tries to withdraw her hand, only for him to grip tighter. Beneath the mask, he gazes at her, speaking in a low, hoarse voice, "Sleep together."

"Huh?"

"We’ve been married for over two years, we’re a couple."

Shannon Quinn looks down at him; unlike other men, his lack of certain danger makes her think his request is merely for companionship; she can’t bear to refuse.

Moreover, if she does refuse, surely he’d say she could sleep with other men, so why not him?

Having chosen to have children and live with him, she resolves to slowly accept everything.

"I haven’t showered yet."

"Will you come?"

She nods, "I’ll come after showering."

He watches her for two seconds before releasing her.

Shannon Quinn presses her lips together as though contemplating speech, hesitates, then turns and leaves the room.

At that moment, she feels they’re simply two pitiful souls seeking warmth, having someone beside her isn’t so bad.

She figures he thinks the same.

After washing and drying her hair, Shannon Quinn carries a pillow and comforter to his room.

He’s not asleep, still sitting at the head of the bed, perhaps worried she won’t come.

Without asking his permission, Shannon Quinn switches off the room light; perhaps he feels more at ease in the dark.

He’s already made space for her; she walks to the bedside, sets her pillow on the headboard, then follows with her feet.

Looking at her in the dark, Shannon Quinn waves the eye mask and says, "Taking off your mask to sleep might feel better, I’ll wear an eye mask, don’t worry."

Finished speaking, she puts on the eye mask before him.

Vincent Rhodes watches her, doesn’t speak.

Shannon Quinn is plunged into darkness, unable to see even his outline.

Sitting for a moment without hearing his voice, she reaches to pull the covers back, lying beside him, facing his direction.

After a while, he stirs, seemingly lying down as well, yet remains silent.

Shannon Quinn extends her hand from under the covers, reaching towards his direction, before he suddenly grabs her hand.

The air falls silent, only the sound of their breathing audible; Shannon Quinn presses her lips together, cautiously asking, "Can I... touch your face?"

He stays silent, gripping her hand, hovering in midair for two seconds, before slowly releasing.

Such an action seems a silent agreement to her request, Shannon Quinn thinks, reaching once more, encountering no resistance this time.

Her fingers land on his cold mask; she feels along its edges, softly lifting it from his face...