GoodNovelChapter 569:
Carrie closed her eyes, exhaustion radiating from every inch of her body. She was too tired to argue. Kristopher
had always had remarkable stamina, leaving her drained after every intimate moment, and now, recovering from
her recent ordeal, she could barely find the strength to stand. Yet her weariness wasn't just physical—it was
emotional, a heavy weight dragging her down. They were speaking different languages again, like two people
separated by an unbridgeable gulf.
Kristopher stood and adjusted his clothes, then carefully lifted her in his arms. She felt light as a feather, her
frailty tugging at something deep in his chest. As he carried her, he pressed a tender kiss to her eyelids, holding
her just a bit tighter, as though afraid she might slip away.
Carrie leaned against his chest, her face resting near his collar, but his warmth did nothing to ease the chill
gripping her. Her hands and feet were like ice, as if a coldness had seeped into her very soul.
Kristopher brought her into the master bathroom, setting her gently on the edge of the sink. “Why are you so
cold?” he asked, concern in his voice. Without waiting for an answer, he turned on the hot water tap, filling the
bathtub.
Steam filled the air as he added a bath bomb, and the water began to sparkle like a galaxy of stars. Rings of red
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtand blue shimmered across the surface, golden flecks dancing in the warm glow. Kristopher knelt to remove her
clothes, his movements careful and reverent. When the scar from her gunshot wound cinto view, his gaze
lingered, a mix of guilt and sorrow flickering across his face. Bending down, he pressed a soft kiss to the scar.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered gently. “Your old leg injury healed completely with that ointment. This scar will heal
too.”
But Carrie didn’t react. Her expression remained blank, her gaze distant. The scar on her abdomen was nothing
compared to the one on her heart. She had lost not only her child but also the dream of ever being a mother
again.
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Kristopher straightened, carefully lifting her into the tub. He placed her clothes into the laundry basket, moving
with precision. As the water enveloped her, he teased lightly, “Don’t you think you look like a princess bathing in
a hot spring? If | kissed you now, like a prince, would you fall in love with me?”
He had never tried so hard to make her smile, but his attempt at humor fell flat. Carrie sat stiffly in the water,
her body tense and unresponsive. Kristopher’s smile faltered. He hadn't expected her to laugh, but the
blankness in her eyes stung more than any words could. A flicker of hurt crossed his face.
He grabbed the shower gel and began washing her skin, his touch gentle. She drew her legs up, resting her chin
on her knees. As he worked, his eyes roamed over her thin frame, noticing every protruding vertebra on her
back and the sharp lines of her shoulders. She looked so fragile, as though she might break under the slightest
pressure.
The flicker of hurt in his gaze quickly shifted to a gentler expression—heartache—and his movements became
softer.
Kristopher gently helped Carrie bathe, changed her into clean pajamas, and dried her hair with a tenderness that
seemed almost out of place. Throughout it all, Carrie stayed as motionless as a porcelain doll, her vacant eyes
fixed on nothing. Her mind was a whirlwind of unanswerable questions. What was the point of it all? Every time
she thought she had survived the worst, a new storm descended, leaving her shattered in its wake. She couldn't
understand what she had done to deserve so much pain.
Once Kristopher finished, he carried her back to the bed and tucked her in. As soon as her body touched the soft
mattress, she curled up into a ball, hugging her knees tightly. The warm, weightless down comforter becher
fortress, shielding her from the harsh reality outside.
Kristopher sat on the edge of the bed, watching her. His chest ached at the sight of her so withdrawn, so broken.
Unable to hold back, he leaned over and embraced her gently, wrapping his arms around her blanket-covered
frame. He buried his face near her hair and whispered, “I'm sorry.”
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