Chapter 112
Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains as Emily Smith awoke from her slumber.
She blinked sleepily, realizing it was already nine o'clock.
The familiar bedroom carried the faint scent of cedarwood—William Johnson's signature cologne. She inhaled deeply, feeling the tension in her nerves finally ease.
But when she turned and saw William's peaceful sleeping face beside her, her heart clenched violently again.
Last night's passionate entanglement remained vivid in her mind. William had taken her to the heights of pleasure with near-ferocious intensity. Yet the more overwhelming it was, the more uncertain she felt.
She wasn't sure if the storm between them had truly passed.
Holding her breath, Emily slipped out of bed as quietly as possible.
Only after closing the master bedroom door did she realize her left foot barely hurt anymore. Looking down, she saw the ankle that had been swollen like a bun yesterday had mostly subsided.
Testing her weight on it, she found she could walk—albeit unsteadily. Remembering the doctor's orders, she leaned against the wall and hopped to the living room on one foot.
Her crutches rested by the sofa. Grabbing them, she made her way to the guest bathroom to freshen up.
After two months of tiresome hotel meals, she'd bought groceries to cook for herself. Even unfamiliar recipes turned out decent after watching a tutorial.
In the master bedroom, William had woken the moment Emily left.
He rarely lingered in bed, but today he did—until the call came from the Swiss sanatorium.
"Mr. Johnson, your uncle's cancer cells show signs of spreading..."
William's grip on the phone tightened. His uncle Henry Johnson, forty-two, had been diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer six months ago. The man who'd raised him as his own son.
After hanging up, William took an ice-cold shower.
As he stepped out drying his hair, an enticing aroma greeted him.
The sweetness of pumpkin mingled with the savory crispness of pan-fried dumplings, making his furrowed brow relax involuntarily.
In the kitchen, Emily moved with effortless grace. Dressed in a simple white cotton dress with her hair loosely pinned up, she rolled dumpling wrappers at the island. In moments, she'd shaped a perfect shrimp dumpling.
The pan sizzled with golden dumplings while pumpkin porridge bubbled on the stove.
William leaned against the doorway watching her for a long while. Only when Emily turned to stir the porridge did he approach.
"Almost ready," Emily smiled over her shoulder, eyes crinkling like crescent moons.
William poured himself water, his tone laced with amusement. "Trying to butter me up?"
"Yes." She admitted without hesitation, never pausing her work.
A low chuckle escaped him, the shadows in his eyes vanishing completely.