The man paused slightly, his eyes deepened a bit, and he gently caressed the tender flesh on her cheek, softly saying, "I’m sorry. I should have rembered your nstrual cycle."
Charlotte Smith shook her head; her petite face turned a little red. Discussing such matters in front of this man made her feel a bit shy.
Robert Stephens took off his trench coat and draped it over her slender shoulders. Then he reached out and lifted her up horizontally.
Charlotte let out a small gasp of surprise, instinctively wrapping her arms around the man’s neck. So close, she could sll the faint scent emanating from him. Unable to resist, she looked up at Robert Stephens, seeing the beautifully shaped contour of his jawline.
Robert Stephens at twenty-one and at forty-one had different auras as well.
At forty-one, the scent lingering around Robert was a heavy, dry, and woody cold aroma that made him unapproachable; but at twenty-one, he slled warm.
The man glanced at her, his voice coming from above her head, "Got your period and still didn’t wear shoes when getting out of bed?"
Charlotte bit her lower lip lightly, being cradled by Robert Stephens, and carried to the bed.
Robert covered her with a quilt, hung the trench coat back on the hanger, then the white cashre scarf.
The scarf was fluffy, but due to her poor craft, it was visibly poorly knitted. Yet Robert Stephens would wear it out daily as if flaunting his affection.
"I’ll warm up a cup of milk for you," the man said while unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling them up, revealing his slender, pale wrists. At ho, he seed much more relaxed than usual, having unbuttoned three buttons on his otherwise pristine shirt, with his delicate collarbones faintly visible.
Charlotte blinked her eyes gently and called out, "Robert..."
"Anything else you want to eat?"
"I’ll knit you a new scarf," she said, and for so reason, a warmth rose in her eyes, her voice carrying a slight nasal tone.
Robert Stephens raised an eyebrow slightly, seemingly surprised, "Hmm? Why?"
"This one’s not good-looking."
Robert chuckled softly, "Just realizing that now? I rember when you gave it to , you were very proud."
Charlotte felt a bit embarrassed by his words.
In her early years, she was spoiled by him, reckless, with no sense of self-awareness. After all, no matter what she gave him, he always accepted it happily, making her believe her handiwork was excellent.
Charlotte said, "I’ll knit you one in a different color. Don’t wear this one anymore."
The man chuckled softly a few tis, saying nothing, seemingly not caring what color his new scarf would be. He pinched her cheek gently and said warmly, "As long as you like it."
Clearly, it was the scarf she was knitting for him, yet now he said, as long as you like it.
It’s as if as long as she liked it, he would like it too.
Charlotte felt dazed, looking at his face, unsure what the man was thinking right now.
Did he truly love her, or did he just want a woman to care for him? Otherwise, why would he force her to have an abortion when she was joyfully preparing to welco their new life?
In her clear eyes, a hint of complexity appeared.
Robert went downstairs to warm a cup of milk for her and also brought up an exquisite fruit plate with a few red dates on it.
"If you want to eat anything else tonight, rember to contact ." The man patted her head and advised warmly.
When she got her period, she had no appetite, sothing everyone in the Stephens family knew because of Robert Stephens.
Charlotte nodded, watching him turn and leave.
Drinking the milk, Charlotte looked down at the sweet dates on the fruit plate, feeling a bit dazed.
Was she really mad or dreaming?
What did this dream an?
Did it want her to return to the past and relive everything that had happened?
If she could relive it...
She looked down at her flat stomach.
This ti, she would absolutely not get pregnant with Robert Stephens’ child at eighteen...
And then at nineteen, lose a boy for him.
*
Charlotte drank a few sips of milk, ward her stomach, then curled up under the quilt and fell asleep again.
Perhaps due to blood loss, she slept in a daze, sotis dreaming of Robert Stephens dying in her arms, sotis seeing him in a wheelchair, silently and coldly looking at her.
Soone pulled her into an embrace; the warmth gradually dispelled the darkness in her dream. Curling up in that warm place, she finally began to sleep soundly.
When she woke up again, it was already completely dark outside. A small lamp was lit in the bedroom, and the man, draped in a black velvet robe, was sitting on the bed reading a German book.
With a pair of gold-rimd glasses perched on his tall, fair nose, he noticed her movent, looking down at the woman curled beside him, he reached out to tuck in the corner of her blanket, enveloping her slender shoulders in the warm covers.
"Awake?" The man reached out, gently brushing away the strands of hair stuck to her face, his tone gentle and soft, "I saw you weren’t sleeping well, so I lay down with you for a while. Did you have a nightmare?"
The man in the eerie, cold dream and the one now looking refined and distinguished with gold-rimd glasses gradually rged in her mind. Charlotte felt a slight stiffness, a chill climbing up her spine.
She shook off the thoughts, then shook her head softly, "I’m fine. You can go back to the study to work."
She knew how busy he was, ticulously dividing his ti each day down to the minute and second... Staying with her in bed wasted too much of his ti.
The man chuckled lightly, his deanor becoming more gentle and graceful. He lowered his head and kissed her fair forehead, "Why are you so obedient today? Weren’t you always complaining about being too busy and refusing to spend ti with you? Now that I’m with you, you’re complaining."
Charlotte nearly couldn’t rember how daring and reckless she used to be, and hearing Robert Stephens ntion it now, she couldn’t believe the person he described was herself.
She instinctively said, "I didn’t!"
Robert looked at her, his eyes lowered as he chuckled softly again.
As if laughing at how feeble her defiance was.
After a mont, the man said in a mild and subdued tone, "Charlotte doesn’t want to be with her tonight. Do you think she has a new love or is she cheating?"
"..." She absolutely wasn’t.
Charlotte looked at him in frustration.
She knew her current reaction seed strange to the present Robert Stephens, but truly, after being disciplined so strictly by him before, she couldn’t pretend to be as willful and unreasonable as she was at eighteen.
Robert squinted slightly, his tone eerily cold, "Speaking of which, you did call out a man’s na in your sleep."
Charlotte wasn’t curious at all.
This man perhaps didn’t know how much of a wolf in sheep’s clothing he looked now, in gold-rimd glasses, acting all serious.
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