She shook her head repeatedly, "I can’t, your injury hasn’t fully healed yet, I don’t dare to move you, and although you’ve lost a lot of weight, your fra and height are still there, I can’t move you."
"You won’t know unless you try."
"There’s no need to try, I know it in my heart."
She turned to leave again, but Christopher Hart held onto her wrist tightly.
Alia Garcia realized what he was after and said helplessly, tilting her head slightly, "You want to carry you, but you don’t have to joke about your own safety, right?"
The man curved his lips into a smile, "So you’ve seen through my little ploy."
"..." The woman rolled her eyes.
She wasn’t stupid; how could she not see that?
The two had "peacefully" cohabited for over a month, and he had been mostly well-behaved, but deep down he probably couldn’t wait any longer.
Seeing that she didn’t move or speak, Christopher Hart knew she was at a loss about what to do with him, so he braced himself for another approach—acting coquettishly.
"Alia... just think of it as fulfilling a small wish of mine. I can’t see you, nor can I be close to you. Don’t you think... it’s a bit cruel?"
"But I really..."
"Alia..." He called out her na, slightly shaking her wrist.
Alia’s words stalled; she looked at his child-like face, turned back around, and said indignantly, "Benny Palr was right! You are at most three years old, not a day more!"
Three-Year-Old Hart imdiately revealed a smiling expression, the corners of his mouth extending sexily, adding so sparkle to his hollow and confused eyes, truly reminiscent of the bright, sunny youth he was in his teenage years.
Alia looked at him, her vision blurred for a mont, and she quickly shook her head to regain composure, preventing herself from being chard.
"First sit up, I will move your legs down, then embrace you and transfer you to the wheelchair; rember... to hold tightly around my neck."
She uncovered the quilt, helped the man sit up, and brought him a thick robe to put on.
Christopher Hart sat obediently like a child.
As she draped the robe over him, she had to lean forward, suddenly closing the distance between them.
Christopher Hart slled her scent clearly, even feeling the warmth of her body.
It reminded him of his mory of her, yet... it was a bit different.
"You have the scent of milk on you, is that from feeding the kids?" he suddenly said, startling Alia.
"The scent of milk? Do I?" She lifted her arm and sniffed, looking at the man. "Seems like it’s not just your vision that’s impaired, your sense of sll must be off too."
"It’s really there, don’t believe ? Let sll again."
He leaned in to sll again, Alia’s breath grazed her neck, and a tingling sensation swept over her, giving her goosebumps.
Just as she was about to back away, he suddenly collided with her.
It was a bump, not a kiss.
"Hiss—what are you doing!" Alia was more than startled, her cheeks felt numb, and she smacked him discontentedly, "Behave yourself! Otherwise I won’t be responsible if you get hurt!"
Christopher Hart wrinkled his brow in a bitter smile, feeling sowhat regretful.
Because he couldn’t see and it was unexpected, he had not kissed her lips but seed to have hit... her jawline instead.
He had not even managed the distance correctly, and his lips hurt a bit from the impact.
"Are you perhaps too skinny now? It feels like kissing bones."
"Was that a kiss?!"
He understood what the woman ant and shalessly suggested, "Shall we try again? This ti I’m sure I can control the distance and the force."
"..." Alia didn’t speak, not bothering with him.
"Alia... are you angry?"
She continued to ignore him, "Your robe is on, I’ll move you out of bed."
With the robe on, Alia stepped back a bit and shifted his legs to turn his position.
When she touched his legs, the sensation was noticeably different from before, feeling... like nothing but cold, hard bones.
Her heart skipped a beat, and unconsciously, she squeezed a bit harder, "How have you... lost so much weight?"
"Really?" Christopher seed calm, "Maybe, but... perhaps it’s muscle atrophy, which isn’t a good sign."
"Hasn’t the caregiver massaged you every day?"
"They have, but the effectiveness is moderate at best."
"Oh..."
Alia responded, her heart filled with an unexplainable emotion.
A full recovery would take at least two to three more months; rehabilitation would be like learning to walk all over again, unimaginably difficult.
What worried her more was that, upon examination, if his lower half had already completely lost motor function, there would be virtually no hope of him standing again.
If that were truly the case, she wondered how he...
Sighing wearily in her heart without showing it, she steadied him to sit up properly and dragged over the smart wheelchair custom-made by Benny Palr.
Securing the wheelchair, she turned back toward the bed, squatted down, and hooked his arms around her own.
His arms, aware of their duty, imdiately wrapped around her shoulders upon contact, embracing her tightly, almost as if he were about to leap forward.
"Hey! Don’t get too close; you’re blocking my view!" Alia pushed his handso face away and threaded her hands under his arms, carefully avoiding his abdon.
Tensing her core strength, she bent her legs and pushed up with force.
She thought it was just a matter of turning the "Mummy" in a different direction, within a distance of one ter. After all, she often exercised and had looked after children for several years, so her arm and waist strength should have been ample.
It shouldn’t be any trouble, she thought.
However—
What a flight of fancy!
At her first attempt, she couldn’t lift him.
Holding her breath, her tone of voice changed, "Why are you... so heavy?"
"Weren’t you the one who said I’d lost weight?" The man’s deep and charming voice was right by her ear. As soon as he spoke, it tickled her halfway up her neck.
"Don’t, don’t talk into my ear, it tickles..."
"Oh?" Christopher evidently enjoyed their close contact so much that he had utterly forgotten his current predicant. He whimsically blew into her ear and asked, "So, does it... tickle like this?"
"Hisss—" Alia felt as if millions of ants were scurrying into her brain through her ear and traveling swiftly through her body along her bloodstream.
Her body uncontrollably shuddered as if struck by electricity, and the strength she had just mustered dissolved in the tremor.
The man, just lifted from the edge of the bed, fell back onto it.
"Christopher Hart!" She was furious. One hand let go to rub her ear vigorously, scolding him, "Are you sick or sothing?"
Afraid she’d angrily walk away, Christopher imdiately beca serious and hastened to assure, "I’ll stop ssing around," but the next second, he was curiously asking, "Weren’t you this sensitive before?"
"..." Standing hands on hips at the bedside, Alia stared daggers at him, brooding over the nuisance before her.
"Forget it! I’m leaving you be!" She turned to leave.
"Alia! I was wrong, I really won’t do it again!" Even if Christopher couldn’t see, he could precisely predict her actions and quickly reached out to hold her back, apologetically admitting his fault.
Alia stopped, worried she’d pull him down and cause a fall, so she stayed her steps.
Turning her head to look at him, she gritted her teeth before turning back around.
"I’m not in the mood for your antics; don’t provoke again!"
"Fine."
She adjusted her emotions and once more positioned herself properly, embracing him face to face.
Mustering all her strength, she finally managed to pull him up from the bed like one would uproot a turnip.
However... this man was too tall!
Nearly one-nine ters tall, over twenty centiters taller than her—and considering his abdominal injury, she didn’t dare jostle him upward, so she had no choice but to grit her teeth and turn around.
Christopher felt her tight grip and the trembling of her body, concerned that she couldn’t bear his weight. He quickly reached out for the wheelchair, but Alia thought he was slipping down and instinctively lifted her arm to stop him. Unfortunately, her arm relaxed, losing balance, and then her center of gravity...
"Ah!"
"Thump..."
"Crash @￥#￥&*"
Christopher fell, overwhelming her like a collapsing mountain.
The two of them tumbled down together. At the critical mont, Christopher tightly shielded the woman in his arms, managing to turn his body slightly so as not to completely crush her.
But with that turn, his head hit the bedside table.
The crashing noise was the sound of everything on the table being knocked over and rolling off.
Alia was utterly disoriented, but her first thought was dread—after his difficult recovery, would this fall send him to et King Rhys?
Terrified and out of her wits, she cared not for the pain in her body as she flipped over to see how he was: "Christopher Hart! Are you okay? Where did you hit? Does your wound hurt?"
"People! Fuller! Aunt Harper! Hurry up!"
"I told you it wouldn’t work! You insisted on doing it, and now look!"
The woman was in a complete panic, shouting for help while scrambling up, tears almost falling.
Christopher lay on the ground, his body leaning against the side of the bed with his head wedged at the edge of the bedside table.
The impact had been so strong that even the bedside table was knocked out of position, with his head perfectly slotting into the resultant gap.
Fuller, Aunt Harper, the caregiving staff, and two bodyguards all rushed in.
The three little ones followed behind.
"Madam, what..." Aunt Harper didn’t finish her sentence when she saw the scene before her. Rushing forward to assist.
"Careful, don’t hurt him! Call the family doctor, no, call 120, take him to the hospital! He needs to see a doctor!" Alia urged quickly.
Indeed, Christopher felt pain, his head feeling as if it were about to split, squeezing his handso and deep features together, his lips turning slightly pale.
But upon hearing the woman’s words, he raised his hand quickly, "Alia... Alia—"
His voice weak, Alia didn’t hear him, so Fuller imdiately turned around, "Madam, President Hart is calling you."
"What’s wrong?" She looked up, her face consud with anxious guilt, still blaming herself, "I shouldn’t have let you ss around, now look what happened!"
"I’m okay... Just call the family doctor, he’ll co over... no need for 120, not going to the hospital..."
"But you didn’t fall lightly just now!" Before she could finish, she saw the blood on his head, her eyes filled with shock, "Your head is bleeding again! The wound must have reopened!"
They carefully lifted Christopher and gently moved him back to the bed.
Seeing how frightened she was, even before he had properly lain down, he weakly waved a hand, "Really... no hospital, just call the family doctor over..."
He finished speaking faintly, his eyes fluttering open and shut.
Whether it was a delusion from extre pain or not, it seed he could sense light, intermittent and elusive.
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