When There Is Nothing Left But Love

Ashton agreed to my request immediately. “Of course.” He left the couch and went upstairs. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

For both our sake, we kept our conversation to a minimum.

Ashton was only human, after all. It was unreasonable and cruel of me to have him accompany the woman he loved while she grieved over another man.

Hiding my true feelings in front of Ashton took a considerable amount of effort because I had always felt comfortable in my own skin around him. In contrast, my interactions with Marcus were always ambiguous. Eventually, I developed an appreciation for the freedom I had in expressing my emotions around Ashton.

Ashton changed into a set of casual wear I had chosen for him in the past before we left for the hospital. The attire dimmed his usual imposing demeanor, and he looked a lot more relaxed and approachable.

I could not help but tease his appearance. “Are you sure you want to dress like a harmless man to face your love rival?”

“Am I?” Barely batting an eyelid at my joke, Ashton walked toward me and slung an arm around my shoulder, leading us out of the house. He added cheekily, “Haven’t you noticed that we’re wearing a matching couple’s outfit?”

I lowered my gaze and realized the truth in his words. The laugh that was about to burst out of me suddenly caught in my throat.

the sight of a couple’s outfit might trigger Marcus and worsen his

I felt a hand squeezing my shoulder. Ashton said casually, “I’m not so petty that I would rub my victory in a patient’s face. Marcus would never wish to see me. I wouldn’t be surprised if hearing my name shortens his lifespan

my lips, unsure

not that generous either, so I need other ways to manage my feelings. Putting on this couple’s outfit reassures me of

tone made it seem like he was talking about someone else, yet I

was holding in his instinctive actions

doing things one sometimes despised

suddenly came to mind—love is patient. Ashton’s behavior right

touched by his actions when he shoved me

outside Marcus’ ward. Camelia and her child sat on a

was possible, but they seemed even

illness could cripple the foundation of an entire

to see us, and a smile soon blossomed on her pale face. She stood up with her child to convey their gratitude at

before I entered the soul-sucking ward