Chapter 33 - There Was Never Anything Between Us

Julia couldn't sleep. The weight of two terrible secrets pressed on her chest like a stone, making her anxious about Stuart's return. She hadn't wanted him back at all.

Carl, however, still believed no one had discovered what he'd done. Seeing his mother so uneasy, he tried to comfort her: "You're overthinking it. Stuart already has a wife. Why would he come back for Laura?"

But just the mention of Laura stirred his resentment. After that one forced night with her, he'd assumed she'd give in. Yet she came back acting like nothing had happened. When he tried to go near her again, she pulled a knife on him—he still shuddered remembering how close he came to losing something precious.

He hadn't dared go near her since.

Julia didn't feel any better from his reassurance. What if Stuart found out about his real parentage? What if he cut ties with the family? No more money from the city?

Frank Dawson, by contrast, seemed unbothered. "Don't overthink it. He's home. Tomorrow morning, kill one of the hens, and borrow some oil from the neighbors. We'll make some fried pancakes for lunch."

Julia immediately balked. "We only have two hens, and they still lay eggs we can sell. What are we supposed to live on if we slaughter them?"

Frank coughed harshly, his voice low but laced with frustration. "You short-sighted fool. It's his first time bringing a wife home. You really think he won't notice if we treat him like a burden?"

He broke into another fit of violent coughing. Alarmed, Julia jumped onto the kang bed and started patting his back.

Out in the yard, Annette had just finished washing her feet and caught the tail end of Frank's choking fit. Back inside, she asked softly, "Is your father good to you?"

Stuart paused for a second. "He's... alright. Why?"

Annette quickly shook her head. "Just wondering."

From Frank's kindly appearance, she'd considered treating his chronic cough—but from Stuart's tone, it didn't seem like he was worth the effort.

After drying her hands, she glanced at Stuart. "Lie down and take your shirt off. I want to check your wound. Hurry up, it's freezing."

Stuart stopped resisting and obeyed. As he lay back and peeled off his shirt, the gauze wrapped around his abdomen had already started to stain red.

Annette frowned. "You're bleeding. Doesn't it hurt at all?"

She gently began unwrapping the bandage. Layer by layer, she peeled it away until the wound came into view. Though mostly healed, the skin had split again.

Poking gently around it, she added, "Still not hurting? No more running around tomorrow. You need to rest."

Stuart shook his head, lips pressed tight. Her cold fingertips brushed his skin, sparking heat beneath the surface. Muscles tensed. Something inside him stirred.

Annette continued efficiently: disinfecting, applying powder, wrapping it up. She was surprisingly deft—more precise than the nurses he'd known.

Of course, this wasn't the same Annette from before. It made sense. But who was she now?

Before he could dwell on the thought, she stepped back. "Done. Stay put tomorrow and rest. Got it?"

He nodded obediently. "Got it."

Just as Annette was about to suggest they prep the bed, a voice called from outside: "Stuart, you awake?"

It was Charles.

Stuart sat up, pulling his shirt back on. Annette watched openly. Broad shoulders, tapered waist, tanned skin, the kind of physique sculpted from real labor. Not bad at all.

She hadn't had time to notice earlier, with her mind on his injuries. Now she found herself admiring the view.

Flushed, Stuart quickly dressed. "My brother's calling. I'll see what he wants. You get some rest."

Grateful for the quiet, Annette climbed onto the kang bed, pulled out a blanket, changed into her thermal underwear, and slipped beneath the covers. The quilt was icy and stiff, untouched for months. She curled into a ball, teeth chattering, and slowly drifted off.

...

Charles gestured him into the next room. "Your sister-in-law's gone back to her family for a cousin's wedding. Come in and sit for a bit."

Stuart sat down, noting how tidy everything was. "Things going well for you?"

Charles grinned. "Much better these days. At least we can fill our bellies. You? I heard you're staying in Longbei City for good?"

Stuart nodded. "Seems like it."

"That's great! You'll be a city man now, no more farming in these hills."

Charles pulled out a bundle of dried tobacco and rolling paper. He ripped off a strip and offered it. "Want a smoke?"

Stuart shook his head. "No thanks. Not really my thing."

Charles began rolling his own, falling silent for a moment before asking, "So, why'd you get married all of a sudden? Something happen? What about Laura? You two were doing well. Why didn't you marry her?"

Stuart frowned. "There was never anything between me and Laura."

Charles looked shocked. "What do you mean? When you got hurt three years ago, Laura looked after you for over two weeks. She was hauling your bedpan, nursing you day and night. She came back skin and bones."

Stuart said nothing, but his mind replayed something Laura had whispered just that morning in town, eyes brimming with tears: 'Stuart, I'm no longer happy. But you... you have to be.'

Why did everyone believe they had a relationship? Even when he was stationed at the border, people spoke like he had a girlfriend back home. In his new unit, they'd all assumed the same.

He was never good at explaining things. And there really wasn't anything to explain.

Charles, taking his silence for guilt, sighed. "Well, you're married now, so no point talking about Laura. But the village folks are angry. They think you ditched her. If they say anything tomorrow, just don't take it to heart."

Stuart nodded slightly. He stayed a bit longer, listening as Charles talked about crops and weather patterns, before excusing himself.

When he returned to his room, Annette was already asleep. Curled tightly into a ball beneath the heavy quilt, her tiny form radiated exhaustion.

Stuart stood watching for a moment, then carefully lay down beside her in the dark.

For the first time in his life, he shared a bed with a woman.