Hearing Herthaâs voice, Thalassa struggled to suppress the fear welling up within her. âHertha,â she said, âIâve got a bit of an emergency and need to head home. I wonât be staying over tonight. Donât fret if you donât see me in the morning.â
As she spoke, Thalassa cast a glance at Lysander, whose intense gaze was trained on her. It was like an invisible blade, cold and sharp, pressing against her throat.
Her heart pounded in her chest like a ping-pong ball, bouncing back and forth, as if she was a Thanksgiving turkey being prepped for the oven.
She prayed fervently that Hertha would shake off her sleepiness and realize the urgency in her voice.
Otherwise, neither of them would stand a chance.
The air in the confined space was heavy with tension. Thalassa could hear her own heartbeat, loud and erratic, as if her heart was about to burst out of her chest.
Lysanderâs eyes never left her, and the oppressive feeling grew stronger.
Just as Thalassa felt her nerves stretched to their limit, Herthaâs voice came over the phone. âOh, I had dozed off. Why do you need to go back so late? Is it something important, or did I miss something?â
Hearing Herthaâs words, Thalassa felt her nerves loosen in relief. She was grateful for her best friendâs intuition and understanding.
âNo, no, itâs just that I forgot to bring the clothes I need for work tomorrow. I even had to borrow your dress for a shower. I figured Iâd save myself the rush in the morning and head back now,â Thalassa explained.
âAlright then, weâll have you over some other time,â Hertha said.
âSounds good. You get back to sleep, okay? Goodnight.â With that, Thalassa hung up the phone first.
Thalassa turned her clear eyes towards Lysander, as if to say âSee, I wasnât lyingâ.
But before she could speak, Lysanderâs hand cradled the back of her head, drawing her closer to him..
Thalassaâs heart leaped into her throat, her eyes wide with surprise. She held her breath, bracing herself for a kiss.
However, just as their faces were mere inches apart, Lysanderâs hand stilled. He brushed away the hair from her forehead, his movements assertive yet gentle.
At this moment, Thalassa and Lysander were so close that she could clearly see the fine details of his handsome face. His high cheekbones, prominent nose, sensual lips, and even the pores on his skin.
And those deep, captivating eyes, framed by long, thick lashes, were enough to make her heart flutter.
She could even feel the warmth of his breath on her skin.
His magnetic charm was disarming, to the point where she couldnât even breathe, let alone move.
âWhy did you wash your hair when your forehead wound hasnât healed?â Lysanderâs voice was low and reproachful.
His eyes were fixed on the dark red scab on her forehead, a sign of a tender healing wound. This type of wound was prone to infection if water got in, especially with her forehead drenched in sweat.
Thalassa was taken aback, and her nerves were momentarily replaced by surprise. Was Lysander showing concern for her?
âMy head was too itchy, I couldnât resist,â Thalassa confessed.
With a disapproving glance, Lysander directed her to sit next to him. He lowered the partition and instructed David, âTake us to the hospital.
âMr. Sinclair, Iâm fine,â Thalassa protested. âThe wound has already scabbed over. It will heal in a few days.â
Lysander shot her a frosty look.
Thalassa fell silent, not daring to say another word.
At the hospital, after an emergency check-up, the doctor cleaned Thalassaâs wound and advised, âItâs almost healed, so you donât need to bandage it anymore. But be careful not to get it wet. Infections can be tricky.â
Thalassa nodded along with the doctorâs instructions, repeating, âYes, yes, I understand.â
As they left the hospital, Lysander walked ahead, his tall imposing figure radiating a cold aura. His steps were quick and decisive.
Comments(0)
Join the discussion — sign in to leave a comment
Sign In to CommentNo comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts!