Purple Summers stood in front of the mirror, recalling Alexander Summersâ sweet nothings, tears blurring her vision as they fell unconsciously.
To love a man engaged to another.
Such a thing would have been absolutely unacceptable to her in the past, even if the engagement was fake, temporary.
Now, however, she had compromised, yielded, done what she once deemed immoral.
âTo secure his position as the family head, he can get engaged to someone else, but in the future⦠could he marry someone else for the same reason?â Purple Summers asked herself.
Her heart was in turmoil, she saw no way out for this relationship, uncertain whether it was a lack of faith in Alexander or in herself.
The sound of water continued, the hot water in the basin spilling out and wetting the marble countertop.
Purple Summers came to her senses and quickly turned off the faucet.
She wiped the tears from her face in front of the mirror and carried the basin out again.
Alexander Summers was slightly displeased, âWhy did it take you so long?â
Purple Summers snapped at him coldly, âIf you think Iâm too slow, get Zack Wallace to do it.â
Alexander Summers smiled again, âWhy would I call him? Without you by my side for even a minute, I feel uneasy. Just put the basin aside after youâre done, someone will come to clean it up.â
Purple Summers thought he was capricious, like a madman.
She dampened the towel and carefully wiped his face, his brows, temples, and behind his ears, very meticulously.
Alexander Summers enjoyed it immensely, smilingly said, âYouâve become bold, even daring to talk back. Do you think I canât deal with you now that Iâm injured?â
Purple Summers pretended not to hear; she was not afraid, for Alexanderâs so-called âdealing with herâ was actually just hooliganism.
She had grown numb to it.
After wiping Alexander Summersâ face and body twice, her arm was a bit sore. She pressed on the scar on his face and asked, âWhy doesnât this scar come off?â
Alexander Summers grasped her hand, âThatâs one that wonât wash off.â
Purple Summersâ expression faltered, followed by a stifled feeling in her chestâ¦
So⦠both faces were fake. She thought the real Alexander Summers had also worn makeup, concealing the fierce scar on his face.
âTired?â Alexander Summers took the towel from her hand and massaged her fingers with a pressure that was just right.
Purple Summers, looking at the scar on his face, softly asked, âWhen did you get this?â
âYears ago,â Alexander Summers answered casually, dismissively adding, âBack then, Damian Howard and I were in Pearlpoint City, full of youthful bravado, daring to think and do anything. When someone threatened our casino customers with a knife to disrupt our business, we retaliated by throwing bombs into their places. Eventually my enemies caught up to me and this wound is from that time.â
After finishing his story with a light laugh, he pulled Purple into his arms and said, âWhat man doesnât bear scars? This is the imprint of growth.â
Purple Summers looked at him with disdain, âLooks more like the imprint of your delinquent past to me.â
Suddenly feeling that the teardrops she shed in front of the mirror earlier were overly dramatic and unjustified, she wondered how she could have cried over such a man?
Her eyes must have been clouded by sleep crust.
Yes, that must be it.
âPurple,â Alexander Summers called her gently, âWhat are you thinking about?â
Purple Summers snapped out of it, shook her head and frowned, âYouâre so annoying, do you even have to know whatâs in my head? Go to sleep now, you just had surgery.â
She thought Alexander Summers didnât take good care of himself.
Just the multitude of old scars on his body alone would surely make Atra Blanc cry her heart out.
Alexander Summers smiled, âI brought you a gift. Go get it from my coat pocket.â
Purple Summers pouted and found his coat on a chair nearby, reaching in and feeling nothing, then switched to the other pocket.
The moment her hand went in, she couldnât help but frown, as she pulled out a handful of bloodâ¦