My Coldhearted Ex demands a Remarriage

Episode 148

Elijah observed her foot, now tinged with red, and bent down, extending his hand to lift her legs, poised to carry her.

“I can walk,” Elizabeth asserted hastily, retreating and nearly losing her balance.

“No need to make this overly dramatic.”

Elijah refrained from insisting on carrying her.

He straightened up, offering her a steadying hand, his voice laced with a trace of annoyance.

“When I ignore your complaints, you accuse me of not caring.

Yet when I try to help, you claim I’m overreacting.

Isn’t that a bit contradictory? What is it that you truly want? Are you even sure?”

Elizabeth allowed him to guide her to the sofa, her voice gentle yet resolute as she said, “Of course, I know exactly what I want.

People change, Elijah.

There was a time when all I sought was your affection and a harmonious life together.

But you met me with apathy.

Now, I’ve come to a realization—I no longer wish to linger in this one-sided marriage.

And still, you’re displeased.

You once complained I demanded too much.

And now you’re questioning if I know what I want?

Mr.

James, perhaps it’s you who needs to reflect.

My needs have always been clear.

I longed for family and love before.

Now, I yearn for freedom.”

Elijah had no desire to dive into a pointless debate over such obscure topics.

Turning away, a hint of irritation in his voice, he remarked, “I never realized how eloquent you were before.

You really come prepared with a load of arguments, don’t you?”

“People tend to argue even when they’re wrong, so naturally, they argue even more passionately when they believe they’re right,” Elizabeth responded with a casual air, her voice softening slightly.

She had little appetite for quarrels, and this unexpected outpouring of emotions left her feeling especially worn out.

“That tissue isn’t clean,” Elijah noted, deftly removing the tissue from her grasp and discarding it into the bin.

He then stretched over her to retrieve the first aid kit perched on the cabinet behind her.

Dropping to his knees in front of her, he carefully cradled her foot in his hands.

Elizabeth’s foot recoiled instinctively, a jolt of surprise coursing through her.

She regarded her feet as profoundly private, and the sensation of someone else’s touch on them was disconcerting.

“Stay still,” Elijah instructed firmly, securing her foot gently but with resolve.

He extracted the burn ointment and started to apply it with focused attention.

This encounter marked the first time he had ever touched her foot, noting its softness and the flawless texture of her skin, entirely devoid of calluses.

Her foot appeared petite and graceful in his hands, its nails neatly manicured and surprisingly delicate.

He had never before tended to someone in such a manner, so he proceeded with cautious deliberation, his fingertips tenderly spreading the ointment across her skin, ensuring each touch was soothing and precise.

The cool touch on her foot was a stark contrast to the searing pain she had been enduring, easing the discomfort significantly.

In contrast, her face heated up, and the composed facade she had been clinging to crumbled entirely.

Her thoughts scattered, leaving her aware only of her heart’s erratic pounding in her ears.

From where she sat, she had a clear view of Elijah—his impeccably straight nose and the long eyelashes that cast delicate shadows over his eyes.

Despite her heart turning frigid and her firm decision to leave him, the sight of him, so ethereal as he kneeled before her cradling her foot, stirred something within her.

His expression, intensely focused as he tended to her wound, coupled with his posture of genuine servitude, struck a chord of sincerity.

Yet, as the protagonist of her own tumultuous story, Elizabeth found this portrayal somewhat absurd.

Her thoughts drifted wildly, and in a fleeting, whimsical desire, she imagined Elijah as nothing more than a plaything from a nightclub—a toy boy she could hire to keep her company.

Lost in these musings, time seemed to dissolve around her until Elijah finished his careful application of a pale yellow ointment that masked the angry red of her burn.

While tending to her, Elijah’s mind kept echoing with Albin’s earlier words.