Chapter 4 Self-inflicted suffering

Unable to withstand the suspicious gaze of James, she rose from her seat, biting back the threatening tears, and choked out, "I'll cook dinner."

No sooner had she spoken than she hastily turned and retreated towards the kitchen, as if any further delay would render her incapable of holding back the impending cascade of tears.

From outside the kitchen, James watched her shaky silhouette choosing ingredients from the fridge, his brow furrowing instinctively. He couldn't understand why, but a sense of unease prickled at his heart.

Emily moved swiftly, preparing the meal within half an hour and managing to compose herself in the process.

As she entered the living room carrying the food, she called out, "Dinner's ready."

When he heard her voice echoing from the hallway, he saw Emily hurriedly placing a bowl of vegetable soup on the table, then gingerly touching her ear with her hand. Clearly, she had been affected by the heat.

Seemingly aware of his gaze, she turned around, her almond-shaped eyes filled with a radiant smile that completely erased the shyness and distress from half an hour ago.

Her sparkling eyes left James momentarily dumbfounded.

Before he could recover his composure, her soft voice reached him: "The chopsticks are still in the kitchen. Can you bring them?"

How could James ignore her request?

He instinctively wanted to decline, but seeing her reddened fingers, he paused, then wordlessly headed for the kitchen.

At the dinner table.

The man sat upright, eating in silence, his movements elegant and reserved. He tasted two bites from each dish, neither picky nor gluttonous, as if even a simple meal was an intricate experiment to be carried out with the utmost precision.

Emily attempted to strike up a conversation several times but was deterred by his imposing manner. Even the sound of chewing seemed to automatically lower itself.

By the time they had finished their quiet meal, Emily couldn't help but ask, "Is it always this quiet when you have meals with your family?"

He nodded matter-of-factly, "No talking during eating, no talking during sleeping. Is there something wrong with that?"

Emily was momentarily speechless and began clearing the dishes in silence.

James seemed to perceive her hesitancy and asked, "Is there something you want to say?"

"You must have always eaten alone when you lived at home."

If there were close family around, how could there be no conversation, no serving each other food?

When she visited friends and had dinner with them, she always admired such a warm atmosphere.

A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, as if recalling an unpleasant memory. His expression darkened momentarily, "That's none of your business."

With his words delivered, he promptly retreated to his room, sealing the door behind him.

Emily found herself slightly stunned, a touch of fury in his departure that left her puzzled. Where had she offended this usually unflappable figure, she wondered, her offense a mystery. She could only take a quiet refuge in the kitchen, to clean up the dishes and put things in order.

On the day of their pact, James had declared his intent to shoulder the household expenses. In response, she willingly took up the mantle of housekeeping. After all, it seemed only fair that she couldn't eat and live off him without contributing anything.

Once the cleanup was complete, Emily noted that it was still early. With ennui threatening to set in at home, she picked up her sketchpad and headed downstairs, intending to take a leisurely stroll around the neighborhood.

To her surprise, upon her return, she found James slumped on the sofa, his forehead slick with sweat, and an unmistakable frailty about him.

"What happened to you?" Emily asked, dropping her sketchpad in surprise as she reached out to touch his forehead.

The man tilted his head to avoid her touch, his eyes meeting hers with a languid gaze. His voice was weak, tinged with an edge of irritation as he spat out the words, "Take me to the hospital."

They hailed a taxi and went straight to the nearest city hospital.

Despite the late hour, the emergency department was far from deserted. There seemed to have been an accident on the outskirts of the city and doctors were busy attending to the injured.

James' condition wasn't considered dire. After a brief examination, the doctor directed him to the registration counter to wait his turn.

Emily watched his discomfort, her heart slightly aching. The towering man, a good six feet tall, leaned on her, his exhaustion palpable. He seemed so heavy that Emily herself felt unsteady. She gritted her teeth, helped him over to a bench in the corridor and said, "I'll go register first, okay? You just wait here."

James glanced at the unkempt bench and the vein on his forehead pulsed.

Before he could protest, Emily had let go of him and was dashing towards the registration counter.

His stomach was in unbearable pain, but he begrudgingly took a seat on the grimy bench. As Emily's silhouette retreated, he pulled out his phone and began to type a message.

Not even ten minutes had passed when Ethan, clad in white, hurriedly approached.

Ethan, seeing James grimacing on the long bench and peering out of the queue window, couldn't suppress a chuckle.

Taking off his mask and sitting down next to James, he teased, "The mighty James Williams reduced to this, isn't life just grand? Looks like you've really done a number on yourself."

The vein on James' forehead twitched again as he watched Emily rushing back toward them. He spat out two words: "Shut up!"

After a series of tests confirmed acute gastroenteritis, Ethan finished prescribing medication and handed the prescription to a nurse for dispensing. He then turned to Emily with a curious look in his eye and asked, "So, you're his... family?"

She nodded, "Dr. Ethan, what's wrong with his stomach?"

Ethan is the Williams family's private physician, he's been with the family for generations and, being an illustrious and reputable family, has been close to James since they were kids, and their relationship is far from bad.