When Fah was discharged from the hospital, Charles appeared at her side.
“I’ve already seen the doctor. He said that you are to go straight home and rest.”
She threw a glare at him. “What right do you have to be talking to my doctor?”
“The right as you husband.” He interrupted her protest, dragging her down the hall to the exit. “Come along dear.”
They reached her house and he swept her up in his arms walking to the front door.
“Argh! Put me down! If P’Prae comes—“
“I knew you’d be worried, so I already called and asked her to go to the company and take care of some things for me.”
Fah looked at him incredulously. As soon as they were at the door, she struggled down and went in.
“Hold on—“
Fah’s eyes rounded when she saw that in her haste, she had closed the door on Charles’s fingers when he tried to stop her. His face twisted in pain, lips uttering silent cusses.
“I-I’m…”she took a step forward. She saw the red marks from the door’s impact and cradled his hand in hers. “Does it hurt much?” she asked gently. Without thinking, she brought his fingers up and blew on them.
“Of course it does, you slammed the door so hard,” he complained, inching closer to her, his gut wrenched by her unconscious tenderness.
As Fah examined his fingers, her neck prickled, sensing his gaze on her. When she turned, she pulled her head back quickly seeing him so close. Only then did she realize that he had maneuvered both of them inside, making her drop his hand as if it were something that was personally offensive to be holding. Charles closed the door with an air of casualness and looked at her. She scowled darkly at him; he was just as untrustworthy as she suspected.
“Why is your face like that? You must be really tired honey,” he lifted a hand to test her forehead temperature, but she dodged it.
“My face is like this because I don’t want to look at you. And don’t call me honey!” she looked around cautiously.
“Scared that Waen will hear?” he chuckled. “Okay, I won’t tease you today, since you just got out of the hospital.” His face steadily grew stern as he looked at her. “Go and change your clothes. I don’t like that shirt.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder and mockingly smiled. “Do you think that really matters to me?”
“Did you not want to part with that blouse because of your disgusting memories of the night you spent with the doctor? Throw it away and I’ll buy you new ones.”
Fah realized this was the same shirt she’d worn the night P’Mor was sick. She snapped at him, “I would rather wear dirty clothes than the finest piece you could buy.”
Charles forced himself to control his temper. He didn’t want to distress her again. Seeing her in the hospital had struck him like a bullet at how fragile she was and he was beginning to find it difficult to imagine hurting her, even if she had hurt him.
Fah watched warily as he unwaveringly returned her defiant look before his lips curved in yet another infuriating smirk. He seemed to always enjoy messing with her. “Or…would you prefer to wear no clothes at all?” He tugged her toward him by her wrists.
Charles couldn’t help laughing at Fah’s outraged expression. “Don’t be so dramatic. We’re already quite comfortable with one another, right? In fact,” she squirmed away from his hands that had reached for her waist, “I’m feeling kind of in the mood right now to--”
“You pig!”
“Whoa, you’re thinking ahead. I was merely considering helping you…” his breath measured how little distance was between them, “changing your clothes.” He loosened the bow on her blouse before she could push at his hand.
Her face flushed. “Stop giving me a bad name when you’re the one who has a dirty mind.”
She backed away, but he matched all of her steps until she bumped into the wall. “Don’t you dare do anything.”
He simply smiled lazily back before leaning into her. Fah found herself paralyzed as his hands came up once more. In the same manner that a person who was savoring opening up a present would, he slowly plucked her bow apart, daintily loosened a button, then parted the collar.
Strange chills quivered through her as his eyes slid down her throat to her bare collar bone, his eyes that had softened and yet grown passionate, his eyes that felt like a tangible touch…a touch that she longed for.
As if through a window, Fah saw the faceless man become clearer, his outline sharpened; her mind raced to catch hold of any part of him that she could reach.
She was given no time to identify her pounding heart as anticipation, Charles’ lips had followed the lead of his eyes. He kissed her neck, paused to relish in her scent and her hair tickling his nose, then indulged in her decadent skin, while her chest rose and fell at this suffocating bliss. He swept her snuggly into his embrace.
Her fingers combed through his hair, and Charles raised his head to look at her in confusion. Her rosy face and dark lashed eyes were every bit as endearing as he remembered, as though only seconds ago she had stepped from the golden sun into their hut upon the sea, ready to welcome him with a hug. Charles’ heart throbbed painfully.
Suddenly, his lips were on hers. His kiss was undemanding; instead it was filled with silent sad words that threw her off guard. Her lips puckered in response to deepen their kiss momentarily before he pulled back.
Fah’s brow twitched to witness the eyes that so many times had appeared soulless, but that were now undoubtedly the eyes of a wounded man who was at the edge of giving up hope. The tips of her fingers brushed across his temple, not even knowing that her touch made him breathless. And then, he kissed her once more. It was the softest kiss Fah had ever felt before, and yet it was the only one she could remember ever making her heart literally swell with yearning. It was softer than a butterfly or a rose petal. It felt as gentle as…teardrops.
She opened her eyes, surprised to see him across the room from her when his presence lingered so strongly in front of her.
When Charles spoke, he kept his back to her, “I’ll be back later to check up on you.”
“Wait,” it was her turn to stop him from leaving. She walked around to face him and what she saw floored her.
“Why…” she was sure why it should matter to her, but it did, “Why are you crying?”
He tried and failed to smile. “Because of you, Fahlada. Crying, smiling, loving, hating, laughing, fighting, dreaming…breathing…everything is because of you.”
Their eyes met and she was once again paralyzed, not from fear or hatred, but by her own desire to erase those understand him, understand who he was and why he was here with her doing the things he had done.He left her there, to struggle over his words, to decipher his anguish, to recall the first meeting at the park when he had cried also. Fah’s head felt dizzy, but it was nothing compared to the imprint his tears had made in her heart.