The man remained silent, merely tightening his arms around her, his voice deep, "Sleep, stop moving around. I'm fine."
Crossley Gibson furrowed her brows, no longer shifting, and quietly leaned against his chest. The changes in his body were so obvious that her cheeks grew increasingly hot, as if they were burning.
She clutched the pajama front of the man, growing more puzzled at heart. Clearly, Faris Booker had a reaction, so why was he denying it? Why did he keep saying his illness wasn't curable!?
Could it be...he had lost all interest in her? Would rather endure it than touch her?!
Thinking of this, Crossley Gibson's heart sank to the bottom, an indescribable feeling washing over her.
It wasn't overly painful, just the belief that between husband and wife, there should be openness. If he had lost interest in her, he should just say it outright, why hide behind the excuse of his illness!?
