Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Rosemary's swagger was cut in half in an instant, but she still stood her ground, "Like it or not, you're staying. Doc, write up that admission slip."

I fully expected Maxwell, with his usual antics, to stir up some trouble, but he just sat there in silence, not saying a word.

The billing department was practically empty, so Rosemary was back with the paperwork in no time.

The inpatient ward was in the building out back, and he got a private room.

Rosemary: "Should I find you a caregiver?"

"I'm not down with being watched by a stranger while I snooze."

"How about I station them outside the door? Holler if you need anything," Rosemary said, while suppressing a yawn.

Maxwell gave her a cool look, "You think after a concussion I'd have the strength to shout?"

Rosemary retorted, slightly peeved, "Having a concussion doesn't mean you've lost your voice."

She was cut off mid-sentence by a voice from outside.

"Maxwell." Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

It was Pearl.

Seeing the bandage on Maxwell's forehead and confirming that, as Jason said, he had no other injuries, she frowned and scolded, "You're not a kid anymore, how can you still take a tumble walking? Can't you watch where you're going?"

Maxwell: "Jason told you I was in the hospital?"

Usually, Pearl would've been asleep at this clock.

"You have the nerve to ask? I called you a dozen times and got no answer, and I was nearly scared to death. If it wasn't for a friend of mine working at this hospital who happened to see you, I'd still be in the dark about your hospital stay. I bumped into Jason downstairs. You didn't even bother to tell me about such a big deal. There goes your bonus for the month."

Once Pearl saw Maxwell was okay, she said, "Rosemary, I'm counting on you to take care of him tonight."

The way Pearl treated Rosemary and the way she treated him were a stark contrast,, like the attitude of a birth mother versus a stepmother.

Rosemary couldn't say no, or Pearl would definitely catch on to the tension between them, "Alright, Mom, I'll walk you downstairs. It's late, and you need your rest."

The two walked arm in arm like mother and daughter, leaving Maxwell, the patient, alone in the room.

"Rosemary, when are you and Maxwell planning on having a kid? It's about time." Pearl quickly added, not wanting Rosemary to think she was pressuring her, "It's tougher for women to recover from childbirth as they get older, and complications can linger."

Rosemary: "Mom, Maxwell and I."

She hesitated, trying to find a gentle way to remind Pearl that she and Maxwell were planning to divorce.

But Pearl switched topics, "How did that last medication work out? If you're out, I'll ask the doctor to prescribe some more."

Rosemary remained silent.

She really couldn't fathom discussing Viagra's effectiveness with an elder so candidly.

The elevator arrived, and Pearl smiled, "Alright, go back now. I can manage on my own."

Before, Rosemary would have insisted on walking her down, but now, she was afraid Pearl would continue on the topic. She told her to be careful and then hightailed it back to the room.

Maxwell was sitting on the hospital bed, browsing his phone, and probably handling work stuff. Rosemary went to freshen up in the bathroom and then plopped straight onto the family cot, playing her role as the dutiful tool.

At this hour, except for the night nurse, everyone was asleep, and the room sank into silence.

As Rosemary drifted off, Maxwell's voice cut through, "I need water."

Rosemary, with her back to him, didn't budge, "It's your forehead that's hurt, not your hands."

The man behind her fell silent; he was likely miffed by her words. Thinking he had calmed down, Rosemary was about to close her eyes to sleep again when Maxwell spoke up once more, "My chest feels tight, go open a window."

That got her moving.

She turned around, propped herself up, and looked at him with a ferocious expression; a sense of sarcasm was shining bright in her eyes, "It's got nothing to do with the window being open or closed; that's your conscience trying to break through."

This time, Maxwell clammed up completely.

He didn't make another peep until Rosemary fell asleep. Probably because she was too late to bed, plus the night's events had been quite a shock, and her mood was foul, she had a nightmare.

In her dream, she was chased by a monster that could find her no matter where she hid. It stared her down with its arms like fortified walls, and squeezed the air out of her until she could barely breathe. As the creature's grotesque face drew near and it bit her neck, it transformed into Maxwell!

Rosemary gasped and woke up in terror!

Opening her eyes, she met his perfectly flawless, handsome face. He was still asleep, and his usual sharp features was softened by slumber.

The daylight was already bright outside; Maxwell turned away from the window, the light streaming in and casting faint shadows from his eyelashes on his eyelids.

Rosemary realized it had been a long time since she'd looked at that face up close. Just as an admirer, it was indeed a face that could make one's heart skip a beat.

She got a little lost in thought.

Then the man opened his eyes, and all that sharpness and edge returned to his face.

Rosemary snapped back to reality, and the unpleasant memories of the night flooded back. She pushed Maxwell away, and her face was full of anger, "When did you sneak onto my bed?"

She got up and then, to her shock, realized it wasn't Maxwell who had moved to her bed, but she had ended up in his!

Rosemary's eyes widened in surprise, "You actually carried me to your bed while I was asleep, Maxwell, how sleazy can you be? Don't tell me you've been lusting after me?"

The last part was just to gross him out; she wasn't that self-absorbed.

The man gave her a glance and scoffed with a cold laugh.

As Rosemary sat up, she flung the covers aside, and there was Maxwell lying flat with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his toned and muscular forearms lined with a bloody bite mark.

Rosemary didn't get it. Was this guy nuts? Biting himself, and so viciously at that?

Maxwell caught her staring at his arm and shoved the wound in her face, "What's up, you wanna get up close and personal with your masterpiece? Rosemary, are you off your rocker? Sleepwalking's one thing, but biting? I told you to hit the road, and you glue yourself to my bed instead."

Rosemary had no recollection of what he was talking about. All she remembered was that she was chased by a monster in her dream, and she kept running all night long.

Plus, she didn't have a sleepwalking issue, to begin with, let alone crashing his bed and sticking to him like a burr.

But seeing Maxwell so confidently accusing her, along with the fresh bite marks that hadn't even scabbed over on his arm, she started to doubt herself.

Noticing her hesitation, he sneered, "Got amnesia, have you? Or just figuring out how to dodge the bullet? Want me to get the doc to pull up the surveillance footage and show you how you were shamelessly clinging on, trying to crawl into my arms last night?"