Chapter 727

Something wasn't right.

Clara lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

No, something was definitely off. Dylan's tenderness, the way he cared for her-it all felt alarmingly natural, like he'd been doing it forever.

She remembered what Mrs. Hawthorne had said, about Dylan picking wildflowers at the old country chapel. She remembered hurling those flowers at him; he hadn't made a sound in protest.

She had no idea how long she drifted in her thoughts before the door creaked open again. Dylan stepped in, carrying a bowl of soup.

He gently helped her sit up, slipping a pillow behind her lower back.

He stirred the soup, scooped up a spoonful, and held it to her lips.

She drank, her eyes lingering on his face.

But Dylan wouldn't meet her gaze. He just quietly repeated the motion-scoop, feed, repeat-like this was the most normal thing in the world.

Clara ate until her stomach finally stopped aching. Only then did she speak, her voice hesitant. "You..."

She got the word out, then immediately turned away, embarrassed.

Even that small movement felt exhausting-her whole body was heavy and weak. Dylan just waited, holding the bowl, patient for whatever she wanted to say.

The silence pressed in, thick and tense, like he was waiting for his sentence to be passed.

If she'd remembered her past, she wouldn't be this gentle, she thought. But fate had been strangely generous to him.

took Clara a long moment before

He

his gaze. Her cheeks went

stuck in her throat, her face burning. She'd never felt so

just watched her, steady and

and leaned

down. I just... I thought you saw me as a stand-in. I never thought

night she'd been pushed into the pit, with dirt raining down on her, she'd finally realized just how

ruined his legs, and he never blamed her for

good to her, and she'd

forced her into marriage, and she'd told herself it was just him using his

never even considered that he might

so deep, like a kaleidoscope-every little, dazzling piece hidden

not to imagine what kind of love could drive someone like

hot as

made him look into Z, thinking he just didn't like Z for the same shallow reasons everyone else

He just loved her too

this, she would've kept being

bear to hurt him anymore. Emotional debts-those are always the

Dylan. I was... so

it out loud made her feel lighter, like she could finally breathe

against the bowl. Then, suddenly, his breath was on her-and his lips were pressed to

flew

kissed her. Heat flushed up her

chest, trying to push

lips trailed down, hungry for

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