Chapter 234
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
“Killian, I said that so you’d feel safe telling me.”
“…I’m still thinking.”
The moment we circled back to square one, I lost some of my resolve to coax him further.
“Are you joking with me? Are you drunk?”
I knew he was neither. The look in his eyes was too serious. But I was running out of patience for this exasperating man.
“When I come out from my bath, you’d better have made up your mind.”
I stood up firmly, pushing aside the dried fruit cake he’d cut for me—though I hadn’t finished it—and headed for the bathroom. Killian neither tried to stop me nor followed after.
‘Something’s off.’
Even though I’d been looking forward to this bath, I couldn’t enjoy it. My mind wasn’t on the warm water enveloping my body, but on the sounds—or rather, the lack of them—coming from the slightly open bathroom door. There was only silence outside.
Which was, in fact, the strangest part.
‘Why isn’t he coming in?’
I’d told him to take his time, but I’d honestly expected him to follow. Whenever I said I’d take a bath, Killian always ran the water for me, sometimes even helped wash the places I couldn’t reach.
But today, he didn’t even peek in or check on me.
The quiet out there was unsettling. Not a sound. He must be sitting in the same place as before, lost in his thoughts. But what was he thinking, all alone out there?
It didn’t feel like he was buying time to invent a lie to tell me. If that were the case, he wouldn’t have had such a lost, empty look in his eyes—a look that seemed utterly adrift, as if he had nowhere to go.
Like the little soap bubbles drifting in front of me.
I watched, holding my breath, as one popped after a long sigh. I slowly lifted my hand from beneath the water, careful not to burst the bubbles.
But the bubble slipped right through my fingers, carried away by the water. Instinctively, I reached out to catch it, but it only floated further away. Suddenly, a thought flashed through my mind.
“I just remembered something else!”
Afraid I’d forget again, I hurried out, still wet with only my bathrobe thrown on. Just as I’d guessed, Killian was sitting in the exact same spot, now with his face buried in his hands.
He must have heard me coming out, but didn’t even look up.
“Are you asleep?”
“No.”
He finally raised his head, and I saw the marks his hands had left—his eyes were rimmed with red, as if he were truly exhausted. His bloodshot eyes were hard to ignore, but I tried my best.
“Have you made up your mind?”
Killian let out a long sigh, staring at my hand resting on his forearm instead of meeting my eyes.
“You didn’t bathe very long tonight.”
“I thought of one more thing for you to ponder.”
He sounded resigned.
“What is it?”
“Why are you acting like a stranger to me?”
He gazed at my hand for a long moment, then muttered to himself.
“If only we were strangers…”
Suddenly, he gave a bitter smile and stood up.
“Would a stranger do this for you?”
He dug through his bag and came back with a small pair of scissors. So that’s why he’d been looking at my hands—he’d been thinking about trimming my nails.
It was only three days ago that he last did this, but my nails were already in need of his care—cracked and rough from scrambling down the mountain, torn by rocks and branches. I stared at him, sullen, as he delicately trimmed my nails and tidied the ragged edges.
Does he think this will make me let it go?
“You are acting like a stranger. In the car, you dropped my hand, and when I got back in, you didn’t even hold it. Even someone who doesn’t know me would at least treat a ‘lady’ with more care.”
Not to mention letting me eat alone, barely looking at me all day, not even helping with my bath… Listing these petty grievances out loud, I realized how childish I must sound, my face burning with embarrassment.
But there was no taking it back now. I’d already said too much; might as well get it all out. I’m not exactly the most mature woman, after all.
There was one thing I’d wanted to ask but hadn’t managed to until now.
“And where are my flowers?”
Every day, he’d bring wildflowers for me. But today, he came back empty-handed.
“I’m sorry. I forgot.”
“You forgot?”
It might sound like a trivial thing, but not for him. Not once, even while we were on the run, had he forgotten to bring me flowers.
Yet today, he had. I stared at him, not meeting my eyes, just focused on my nails, blinking in disbelief.
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