Chapter 25: The Apology and the Unseen Pain

Chapter 25: The Apology and the Unseen Pain

Ethan didn't join the stars and the sun. However, Emily's two young cousins did wish to be up there with the moon, and the pilot whisked the two girls away.

Emily, on the other hand, quietly left the garden.

After the events of the evening, it was evident to everyone that there was some tension between the couple. So, when Emily said her goodbyes, no one tried to keep her.

Ethan quickly caught up to the woman, who was walking away with her head turned.

"I'll drive you," he said.

Emily didn't stop her stride. "No need," she replied curtly.

The man, who had been enduring a series of jabs and retorts all evening, frowned and grabbed her arm.

"Emily."

Emily tugged her arm away, not hiding her annoyance. "Is there something Chairman Harrison needs?"

Ethan glanced at his watch. "Is there still a shoot at this hour?"

"What's the point of the shoot?" Emily averted her gaze, her voice dry. "I'm going to Paris to shop for clothes."

Ethan: "..."

Ethan licked his lips, his throat moving up and down as if he was struggling to find the right words.

"Sorry," he said softly.

Emily's brow furrowed slightly, seemingly surprised, but she still didn't look at him.

The apology felt awkward and dry, and Ethan swallowed hard before continuing. "I shouldn't have said what I did that day."

"You were right. I don't understand photography and shouldn't have commented on it," Emily said.

Her long lashes trembled as she looked at him.

"You don't understand not just photography," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don't understand me."

Some things are beyond right and wrong… Emily murmured to herself, her light-colored eyes misting over.

Her slow blinks resembled a child who had been wronged and was finally getting justice. Yet, her pursed lips showed stubbornness.

Emily shook her head. "I don't need your apology."

Her tone was unusually calm, devoid of anger or sarcasm, simply stating facts in a flat, emotionless manner.

But Ethan's heart tightened.

He gazed at her with deep, turbulent eyes. "Fine," he said slowly, his voice husky. "Can I at least drive you home? It's too late."

Emily was clearly still reluctant. She glanced toward the lights, seemingly considering calling Clarke Family's driver.

Ethan read her thoughts. "Don't bother. If they see us leaving separately, they might come after us."

Emily: "..."

After a brief silence, Emily lifted her chin defiantly and walked toward the Cayenne.

She sat on one side of the car, pressing herself against the door, while Ethan entered from the other side and didn't come closer.

The space between them felt like an ocean. One was slightly angled, the other looking out the window, the car was silent.

After a while, Emily suddenly felt an unexpected pain in her lower abdomen.

She furrowed her brow, instinctively covering her stomach, but the pain intensified.

It felt like a blender had been turned on inside her. Waves of pain washed over her, draining her of all energy.

Emily had always suffered from menstrual cramps.

This time, her period was delayed, and when it came, it was incredibly intense, as if making up for all the pain she had missed.

She shot a resentful glance at Ethan.

Ethan, having already made her period worse previously, now seemed to have brought the pain back to life. 😊

Ethan soon noticed Emily's distress. He leaned over and saw her face had turned pale, and her lips had lost their color.

His expression changed. He reached for her hand, feeling the coldness of her skin.

"What's wrong?"

Emily's face was contorted with pain, but she still clung to the car door and refused to lean toward him. She pulled her hand away. "Don't touch me!"

The pain intensified with her words.

It felt like her vision was clouding with white spots from the pain.

"Go to the hospital," Ethan told the driver.

"I'm not going!" Emily protested immediately.

She was sweating profusely, her voice sounding like a whining kitten, but she remained adamant. "I want to go home…"

Ethan understood immediately.

He knew she suffered every month, but the servants at the Stardust Pavilion had always taken good care of her, so she didn't suffer much.

He remembered her suffering like this during their vacation on the island last year. She had gone swimming and eaten ice cream, and by the evening, she could barely move due to the pain.

Ethan had offered to call a doctor to the island, but she had stubbornly refused. In the end, he hadn't insisted…

The driver looked at Ethan, waiting for his decision.

Ethan glanced at Emily and nodded. "Continue driving."

The Cayenne drove straight into the underground garage.

After parking, Emily was already so pale and cold that she looked ready to faint. Despite this, she stubbornly tried to push open the car door.

Before her feet could touch the ground, Ethan was already there.

"I told you not to touch me!" Emily protested, twisting her body and refusing to let him help her.

Ethan stepped back obediently and draped his coat over her shoulders. As soon as he touched her, Emily shrugged off his coat.

"I don't need you to take care of me. I can do it myself."

It soon became evident that she couldn't.

After taking only a few steps, Emily, like a dried shrimp, was shrinking more and more. Just as she was about to collapse, Ethan suddenly came over and, without a word, supported her shoulders.

"If you're going to be rude again, wait until you're stronger," Ethan said lightly, pressing the elevator button.

Emily, with a sulky expression, was held in his arms, clearly unwilling.

Once inside the elevator, Ethan noticed her icy hands. He covered her with the coat and, when she tried to push it away, he held it in place.

"Cover up. You're freezing."

Emily: "..."

"You're the one who's cold!"

Ethan frowned and touched his narrow waist under his shirt, feeling his warm skin.

"I'm actually quite warm."

Emily: "..."

No reasoning with a child.

Once inside the apartment, Ethan set Emily down.

Although her apartment wasn't as spacious as their home, it was well-equipped. The room maintained a constant temperature and humidity, and once inside, Emily's color improved slightly.

The water was instant hot water. Ethan fetched a cup of hot water and handed it to her.

Emily drank the hot water, and some color returned to her lips.

"I'm fine now," she said, placing the cup down, her voice weak. "You can go now."

Ethan stood in place, looking at her for a moment. He took the cup and went back to get more hot water.

Emily watched him with a look of disbelief.

He really was a nuisance.

Since he was so willing to be bossed around, she might as well make use of him.

Emily pointed to the drawer across the bed. "Help me get something from that drawer."

Ethan opened the drawer, which contained neatly arranged thin plastic packages. He took two and handed them to her along with the hot water.

As Emily sipped her water, Ethan opened one of the packages.

Just as Emily put down her cup, she saw Ethan's hand suddenly come towards her, and he slapped her on the forehead with a "smack."

Emily stared in shock for a few seconds, then rubbed her forehead, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"What are you doing?"

Ethan looked a bit confused and glanced at the package again—red plastic packaging with large "warm patch" written on it.

Emily ripped the warm patch off her forehead, looking at Ethan as if he were a fool.

"Who told you it goes on the forehead!?"

A red square mark began to appear on her smooth forehead, looking rather silly.

"Do you want to burn me alive?"

Ethan looked just as innocent. He raised the packaging. "Isn't it used the same way as a cooling patch?"

Emily: "......"

A genius of logic.

"Yes, it's the same way!" Emily was frustrated but had no patience to explain. She waved her hand dismissively. "Just leave. You're a nuisance!"

With that, she turned her back and lay down, clutching her stomach, ignoring him.

Ethan: "..."

Ethan looked at the white warm patch she had thrown aside and felt a heavy weight in his heart.

He belatedly realized that he didn't seem to know how to take care of someone.

In the two years of their marriage, he had been away from home frequently and hadn't really taken good care of her…

Ethan took the cup and walked quietly to the kitchen. The high-end kitchenware was spotless. This was one area where they were in agreement—neither of them cooked.

Ethan rummaged through the empty refrigerator and finally found a small jar of honey. After preparing a cup of hot honey water, he went back out, only to find Emily already asleep.

She was still holding her stomach with one hand, her other hand clutching her phone, half of her face buried in the pillow, the blanket barely covering her waist.

Ethan approached, carefully pulling the blanket up over her. He glanced at her phone screen, which was still lit up:

*How to Kill Your Husband: One Hundred Ways!*