Chapter 259 Feeding Him
Like a child who had done something wrong, Alexander Mitchell hung his head low, his voice a soft mutter, "Don't go."
Looking desolate, he placed the fork on the bowl, then carefully clasped his hands together in his lap.
Ava Anderson shook her head helplessly and sat down beside him. She picked up a fork and began to feed him some bread, coaxing, "Open your mouth."
Alexander Mitchell obediently opened up, and Ava stuffed the bread into his mouth followed by another forkful of food.
She cared for him as if he were a child.
The sight of a kind and beautiful woman caring for a pitiable man had a heartwarming, healing quality to it.
For a moment, all the unhappiness seemed to be cast aside, leaving only the present.
...
Ava stayed with Alexander until past nine at night.
Noticing the time, she realized she had to leave.
Alexander caught Ava checking her phone multiple times, probably for the time, and he watched her with a look of disappointment.
Ava slipped her phone back into her pocket. "It's getting late, I should head back. You should rest. Remember, don't lie on your back. Sleep on your side or on your stomach."
Alexander hung his head in silence.
Ava approached, concerned. "What's wrong? Is your wound hurting again?"
"What does it matter? You don't care anyway," he retorted, his tone acidic and tinged with jealousy.
Hearing his words, Ava frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
His tone had become even more jealous than before, and Ava was genuinely getting upset.
"Alexander Mitchell, what's with the attitude? I've been here all afternoon. I've fed you your meal, and now you're acting jealous at me. Is this meaningful to you?"
Alexander looked up, "You were the one who wanted to go, weren't you? How many times did you check the time? You clearly don't want to be here. It's like you don't even want a home."
Alexander rested his head against the headboard like someone feeling grievously wronged, and Ava was portrayed as someone who couldn’t care less, deepening his sense of injury.
Ava found the scene both ridiculous and aggravating.
She felt Alexander was being unreasonable, but she couldn't find the words to argue back. This man was truly adept at making a scene.
"What do you mean I don't want my home? I just... I just..."
Ava Anderson was taken aback, wrestling with her thoughts for a long moment before saying, "You're right, this is my home. It's normal for me to stay here. So maybe I'll stay tonight."
After failing to win the argument, she might as well throw caution to the wind.
What Ava didn't see was Alexander Mitchell's head, hanging low. When he heard her words, his eyes shimmered with a bright sheen, like clouds parting to reveal the radiant sunshine, and the corners of his mouth lifted into a faint smile.
But then, he quickly suppressed it, and when he looked up again, his face was devoid of any expression. "This is your home, you can do whatever you want. As for me, I'm an outsider; it's probably best if I leave."
Saying that, Alexander stood up, pulled on his shirt, and walked stubbornly towards the door, step by step.
Ava watched his retreating back, silent for a long time, just gazing at him until he stepped out.
When Alexander reached the doorway, he paused, frowning slightly.
He turned around to see Ava still standing by the bed, motionless, a flicker of confusion crossing his eyes.
Why wasn't she stopping him?
