Chapter 242 ā Less Guilty (1)
Translator: Atlas / Editor: Regan
Raphael had not left the mansion since. He wandered outside Annetteās door, restless as a faithful hound. Sometimes he would clench his teeth when he heard her coughing, or moaning with pain.
He didnāt understand himself.
After some time, her wracking coughs turned to sobs. The sound was muffled, as if her face was buried in a pillow, but Raphael couldnāt stand listening to it. He felt like he was losing his mind.
Finally, he opened her bedroom door, and Annette lifted her face, wiping away her tears. Her face was flushed, as if she had a fever. Raphael observed this impatiently and then grabbed a wet towel from the basin beside the bed.
āLie down,ā he ordered.
āPlease call a maid,ā Annette replied. āYou donāt have toā¦ā
āLie down!ā Raphael repeated, louder. He didnāt know how to coax or negotiate, only to dominate, and Annetteās eyes filled with tears.
āIāI meanā¦there are no maids outside,ā he stammered involuntarily. āSo lie down. Iāll clean you upā¦ā
Not even he knew what he was trying to say, so he stopped trying to convince her with words. Reaching out an arm, he laid her down, and used the wet towel to wipe down her face, neck, and limbs.
It only confused Annette. There was a wide gap of affection between them, and she was deeply uncomfortable with him. She stared at him as he washed her.
His manly face was beautiful, but unreadable. She couldnāt guess what he was thinking, and then she winced as the wet towel chafed her delicate skin.
Usually, it was the maids that tended her, and she didnāt understand why it hurt her. But then she glanced at the wet towel and realized what was wrong. The towel in Raphaelās big hand was bone dry. He had wrung it out so hard, all the water was gone.
Raphael scowled. He thought she was laughing at his inexperience, but he would ignore it for now, if it meant she stopped crying. She seemed a little more comfortable.
For her part, Annette felt like a fool, to have refused his care. Obviously he was doing this so that he would feel a little less guilty when she died. She did not believe for a second that he had suddenly started to care for her.
Annette watched his back as he put fresh sheets on the bed. On the nightstand, the medicine he had brought her gently steamed.
It wasnāt just that she couldnāt eat. She had not properly taken her medicine either because of her damaged insides. The last time she had drunk that medicine, she had vomited all over Raphael. The memory of that humiliating moment prompted her to tell him,
āYou donāt have to do that. Donāt worry about me.ā