Chapter 258 - Frail and Haggard
"Let me help you," Ava offered, moving to undo his buttons.
"No," Alexander Mitchell gripped her hand firmly, determined, "I can do it myself. It's a small thing, I should be able to."
He lifted his hand again, his fingers shakily reaching for the buttons, but he couldn't manage to undo even one, eventually letting his hand drop in defeat.
Gritting her teeth with stubborn resolve, she tried to lift her hand to unfasten his shirt.
Ava's heart ached for him. She quickly grasped his hand, "Let me help you. It's normal to struggle with this when you're hurt. Don't be embarrassed, it's not as if I haven't seen everything before."
They had known each other for so many years, and after getting married, they had seen each other's most intimate aspects. There was no reason for pretense.
Alexander let out a soft sigh, releasing his attempt, nodding his head as he turned his face away, the picture of defeat and weariness.
Ava's heart broke for him. She wanted to embrace him, to comfort him.
In his current state, Alexander Mitchell looked like a helpless child, unable to even unbutton his shirt, and it was incredibly touching.
Gently, Ava turned him around and cautiously began to undo the buttons on his shirt.
Even though they had seen all there was to see of each other, every time she looked at his body, she couldn't help but blush.
Underneath his shirt lay a robust physique, each muscle bursting with strength.
Even with a busy schedule, Alexander Mitchell never forgot to hit the gym. His body was of that perfect proportion that even someone with obsessive-compulsive disorder would find incredibly satisfying—neither too much nor too little, just exactly right.
The rise and fall of his chest were particularly intense as he breathed hotly onto Ava Anderson's forehead, making her own breathing quicken, her cheeks flaming as though on fire.
She carefully peeled his shirt off, placing it aside.
His sturdy body, adorned with bandages, exuded a raw, wild sexiness. Sometimes the sight of a man bearing wounds only adds to his masculine allure.
He radiated a heat that was somehow intense yet ascetic.
Ava took a deep breath, forcing her gaze away from his body as her heart thumped in her chest.
"Alright, we can eat now. The food's going cold."
Alexander's fragile fingers picked up the fork, struggling to lift a spear of green vegetable to his lips.
He kept his head down, but as he bent over slightly, it seemed as though he pulled at his wound, his brows furrowing with pain.
"Ah..."
The fork in his hand dropped with a clink onto the rim of the bowl, then rebounded onto the table.
Ava picked up the fork.
He seemed to lack the strength for even the smallest movements.
"I'll feed you."
Even the tiniest motion now seemed to tug at the wound on his back, and it pained her to see him hurting.
Alexander remained stubborn. "I can do it myself, I don't want to trouble you."
His demeanor was soft, pitiable, and haggard, yet obstinate—heartbreakingly so.
A heaviness settled in Ava's heart as if the pain was her own.
"It's no trouble. If I thought it was, I wouldn't have stayed. If you refuse my help, then I might as well leave now."
Seeing Alexander remained silent, Ava put the fork down. "Then I'm leaving. Since you can do everything yourself, what's the point of me being here?"
She sighed softly, getting ready to leave.
"Don't go," Alexander called out to her, his voice tinged with urgency and panic.
Ava halted, turning back to look at him without a word, just silently gazing at him.
---
