Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Chapter Five

She grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and walked to Ethan's bedroom door, giving it a couple of knocks. "Ethan, you alright? I brought you some water."

The coughing inside stopped abruptly, and everything went dead quiet.

After a long pause, his voice came through the door, weak but sharp as ever, carrying a detached coldness. "No need. Go back to sleep."

Just from his tone, Carol could almost picture his expression-cold, distant, completely closed off.

She held the slightly heated glass in her hand and replied softly, "Okay.

"I'll leave then."

She wasn't the type to keep trying when clearly not welcome. She turned to leave but hesitated halfway, pausing, then leaning back toward the door with her ear pressed to it, still worried.

It was so quiet inside that it made her uneasy.

Suddenly, the door swung open from the inside.

Carol froze mid-action, awkwardly straightening up from her odd posture.

She met Ethan's deep, unreadable eyes. His gaze seemed darker than usual, probably because he'd just had a heavy coughing fit. A bit of moisture lingered in his eyes, making him look slightly more human.

"I'm not dying anytime soon," he said hoarsely, voice still cold and distant.

Carol held out the glass. "Still, have some warm water."

He gave her a look, brows furrowed ever so slightly, skeptical. "It's pointless. Warm water won't cure me."

"I know," she said casually. "But your throat must feel awful after all that coughing. A bit of warm water might help, you know?"

Ethan didn't take the glass, his tone laced with sarcasm, like always. "You had the chance to walk away, but you chose not to. So what's the point-pleasing a guy who might be on his deathbed won't get you anywhere."

His eyes scanned her face, as if trying hard to dig out even a hint of insincerity beneath her calm, almost annoyingly gentle gaze.

But all he found was quiet steadiness, and maybe... real concern?

Carol blinked, her tone light. "Well, everyone dies someday. But while we're alive, might as well not make it harder than it already is. I already got the water anyway-makes sense to try and feel at least a bit better, right?"

Ethan was taken aback, not expecting that response.

While he was still processing, Carol slid the cup into his slightly cold fingers, turned on her heel, and walked away with ease.

"Get some rest."

Ethan just stood there, staring down at the warm glass in his hand. The surface rippled slightly from the earlier movement.

A faint, unfamiliar scent lingered in the air-something gentle and warm, so out of place in this cold house. It was hers.

He stood there for a long time, so long that his legs started to go numb and that scratchy feeling in his chest began creeping back again.

Finally, his pale fingers gripped the glass a bit tighter.

The heat from the glass stung his cold skin slightly, a strange kind of sensation.

With the glass in hand, he turned around, walked back into the room, and shut the door behind him.

The hallway outside fell silent again.

Inside, he placed the glass on the bedside table. He didn't drink it.

He just sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard, eyes closed and brows slightly furrowed, lost in thoughts that wouldn't leave him alone.

The night was far from over.

...

The following days passed without a ripple.Carol worked her 9-to-5 and came home to make dinner.

Every time she thought about whipping up something spicy to treat herself, Jack's voice would echo in her mind, "Mr. Mitchell can't handle spicy food," and before she knew it, she'd end up cooking something bland again.

Over the phone, Sophia practically shouted, "You, of all people, living on spice, now suddenly eating bland food just for him?"

"Carol, be honest with me. Don't tell me you've fallen for him? Look, I get swooning over a good-looking guy, but he's seriously ill! Falling for him is like jumping into a pit!"

Carol rolled her eyes at the phone. "Falling in love isn't as simple as flipping a switch, okay? Plus, too much spice isn't great for skin either. Let's just say I'm trying to eat clean.

"He's good-looking, sure, but don't worry, he's not some prince charming in my book."

Sophia sounded half-desperate, "Just promise you won't catch feelings, alright? Do not fall for someone you shouldn't!"

Right after hanging up, Carol got a call from Jack letting her know Ethan had an evening engagement and wouldn't be home for dinner.

It was the first time since they got married he had dinner plans away from home, and Carol was a bit surprised.

She figured, hey, with him out of the house, it was finally spicy time. But turns out, bland was her new default-she'd already seasoned everything mild without even thinking.

She had just finished eating when she heard the door open-Ethan was back.

Seeing his gaze sweep over the spotless dining table, Carol explained, "Didn't you have dinner out? I didn't make anything for you."

Ethan just gave a low "Mm" and headed upstairs to his study without another word.

Carol didn't think much of it and went back to sketching her designs.

But later that night, when everything was quiet, a loud crash from the kitchen made her jump.

She opened the door and found Ethan collapsed on the floor. A shattered glass lay next to him.

Panicked, she called Jack and rushed him to the hospital.

After some checks, the doctor said it was a stomach issue. Guilt instantly washed over Carol.

Was it because she hadn't made dinner for him...?

Jack looked apologetic. "Sorry, ma'am. We were at Golden Hearth restaurant, and I thought Mr. Mitchell would eat something, but he didn't touch much.

"Maybe... he wanted to come back and eat your cooking."

Carol found that hard to believe. No way Ethan wanted to come home just to eat what she cooked.

If she were facing a stranger she couldn't kick out, she wouldn't want to come home either.

Still, guilt settled deep in her gut.

Before heading to work that morning, she packed up some homemade chicken soup and asked Jack to drop it off at the hospital. Luckily, Ethan's condition wasn't too serious, and he got discharged that same day.

But somehow, the word made it to the family estate before she even got off work. Grace Carter had already summoned her home.

Carol knew exactly what was coming and quietly prayed for mercy under her breath: Lord, please help me.

As expected, the moment she stepped into the estate, Grace greeted her with a frosty, "Carol, you're here."

Carol quickly put on a smile and took the lead, "Grace, it's my fault. I didn't take care of Ethan properly..."

Seeing her admit fault right away, Grace couldn't lash out too much, though her tone still carried subtle blame.

"Ethan's health isn't great; he needs more of your care. You two share a bed, don't you? How did he even collapse?"