Chapter 6

Orlando’s voice held an endearing softness as he attempted to comfort Rebecca. “You’re not ugly, Rebecca. You’re just getting better. Stay strong, okay?”

“Really? So, you won’t start disliking me?” Rebecca’s hopeful tone infused a fresh wave of sweetness into her

voice.

Without a second’s hesitation, Orlando reassured, “Of course not. Let’s get you better first, and then we can talk about marriage.”

“Really? You’re not just saying it to make me feel better, right?” Rebecca’s voice echoed a mix of excitement and anticipation.

“No, I mean it. Now, let’s get some food into you,” Orlando directed his attention to the nearby food tray.

“Landy, I love you,” Rebecca confessed, her whispery words held a melodic charm.

Unseen by them, Cassandra stood outside their door. She caught their entire conversation. A bitter smile adomed her lips as her eyes welled up with unseen sorrow. She didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but she felt it better she gave them their space, rather than intrude on their tender moment.

As soon as their conversation concluded, she knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Orlando’s voice, cold as ever, invited her in.

As Cassandra pushed the door open, she was met with a sight she half–expected. Orlando was standing by Rebecca’s bed, sporting the same attire he wore when he left Dustmeadow Mansion. That was proof enough; he had spent the night with Rebecca in the hospital.

wore a blank expression, his eyes devoid of any warmth as they met hers, akin

C. fra clenched her fists,

for the trouble you had to go through to bring me clothes.

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warms Tea aroma wafts

of the

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Chapter 6

Rebecca’s voice, Cassandra lowered her

her shoulder–length hair lying limp on her shoulders. Perhaps due to her long stint in

having poached eggs for breakfast, considering she was on

eggs hit Cassandra’s nostrils, causing her to scrunch her face in discomfort. An unwelcome wave of nausea hit her. She felt her stomach churn uncomfortably as if something was

palpable silence enveloped the

doing?” Orlando cast an icy stare.

a whisper. “Cassandra, do you find

state?”

choke down her nausea. A cold air radiated off her as she replied calmly, “It’s just the smell of the disinfectant that doesn’t sit well with me.” She walked over, the bundle of clothes in hand, making a slight effort not to breathe in the disconcerting mix of egg and disinfectant. “These are the clothes your requested. All

the surprise brightened her face. “Cassandra, you’re

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