Chapter 2

"Darling, I'm craving some dumplings."

Hearing this, I set down the bread I was holding.

"I'll go downstairs and buy some for you."

Dashiell's lips curled into a smile as he softened his voice, coaxing, "I want the ones from that place we used to eat at when we were in school."

I froze for a moment.

That shop was in the east side of town, an hour's drive away, and with its booming business, the queue was always incredibly long.

The whole trip would take at least an afternoon.

Whether it was a sudden craving for dumplings or an attempt to get me out of the way, I no longer wanted to dwell on it.

I nodded, saying nothing, and got up to leave the hospital room.

Not long after, a girl in a white short dress hurriedly ran into the hospital room from the stairwell.

She threw herself into Dashiell's arms with teary eyes, likely hitting his wound as Dashiell instinctively furrowed his brow, but he bit his lip and didn't make a sound.

"Didn't I tell you not to come?"

He casually wrapped his arm around the girl's waist, affectionately pinching her cheek.

"But I missed you so much."

The girl looked up at him, pouting, "I wanted to kiss and hug you so badly."

Dashiell's smile deepened, his tone teasing, "Just kiss and hug?"

Dashiell's dark eyes deepened as he suddenly gripped her chin and kissed her.

In an instant, the quiet VIP hospital room was filled only with the intimate sounds of their lips and tongues intertwining.

Dashiell's fingers slid up under the hem of her dress, causing the girl to let out an involuntary moan.

Just as things were about to spiral out of control, Dashiell pulled back in time, gently pushing her away as he said in a husky voice, "You should go now."

The girl reluctantly withdrew from his embrace. "Can I come see you again tomorrow?"

Dashiell kissed her cheek, coaxing her softly, "Don't come for a while. I don't want you tiring yourself out running back and forth."

"I'll come stay with you once I'm discharged. Go home and eat more," he said lazily, leaning back against the headboard as he cupped her breast in his palm, adding mischievously, "You've lost weight here."

The girl immediately pounced on him in embarrassed anger, biting him. Dashiell let out a soft grunt, his voice full of indulgence as he said, "Are you part dog or something? Always biting people."

The familiar tone made me freeze.

Because he had said those exact same words to me before.

It was the year Dashiell graduated high school, when I was a junior in college.

He refused arrangements to study abroad, insisting on applying to a university in my city.

Because of this, his mother came to find me. But contrary to expectations, there was no melodramatic persuasion or difficulty.

Not only was she willing to financially support my studies abroad, but she also thanked me for tutoring Dashiell and supervising his studies.

I politely declined, for the sake of what little self-respect I had left.

However, I agreed to help them convince Dashiell to go abroad.

Dashiell flew into a rage at me for the first time, disregarding my resistance and forcefully kissing my lips with violent clumsiness.

Unable to push him away, I took advantage of a pause for breath to open my mouth and bite him, accidentally biting his lip corner too hard and breaking the skin.

He wasn't angry at all, pressing his nose against mine and whispering, "Are you part dog or something? You sure love to bite."

As my thoughts came rushing back, tears unexpectedly fell onto the back of my clenched fist.

A sharp pain radiated from my palm as I tightly clenched my fingers to resist the urge to burst through the door, turning to flee the scene in a mess.

But the Dashiell before me was no longer that boy from before.

I packed up the wonton soup and sat in the hospital lobby for a while, until the coquettish silhouette disappeared at the hospital entrance. Only then did I pick up the food container and return to the hospital room.

I had just set down the container when Dashiell pressed up against me from behind, his warm lips grazing my ear, "Darling, you've worked hard." The chopsticks in my hand clattered to the floor as I stiffly pushed him away.

He froze, bewildered. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

I grabbed a fresh pair of chopsticks and handed them to him. "Better eat up before it gets cold and congealed."

Dashiell's lips curved into a smile. "Even if it's cold and congealed, I'll finish every bite. My darling went so far to buy this for me."

He took a bite, and I asked if it tasted good. He nodded, graciously praising, "It's just like it used to be."

I couldn't help but lower my head and smirk coldly.

But this was just something I'd grabbed from downstairs on a whim.

How could it possibly taste like it used to?