Chapter 98 Don't You Touch Me
Ava was consumed by regret over the phone call she had made. The haunting image had etched itself into her mind, tormenting her relentlessly. Unable to endure it any longer, she abruptly ended the call. With a forceful toss, she discarded her phone, her body crumpling onto the bed as tears cascaded down her cheeks.
"Alexander, you absolute cad!" she cried out, her voice echoing in the empty room.
The mental image of Alexander aiding Isabella in the bathroom, potentially bathing her or even sharing an intimate shower, struck Ava like a bolt of lightning. It was a thought so overwhelming, it left her heart aching with a pain she had never experienced before.
She had believed that by not witnessing the act, by not dwelling on it, she could somehow manage the pain. But she had heard it, and now the thought was inescapable. Each breath she took was a struggle, her chest constricting with the weight of her emotions. She forced herself to breathe deeply, not for her sake, but for the unborn child she carried within her.
Lunch was prepared promptly, and Ava found herself trudging towards the dining room. Her appetite had abandoned her, yet she forced herself to eat for the sake of her child. She mechanically shoveled food into her mouth, swallowing with great effort as her stomach roiled in protest.
Every time the image of Alexander and Isabella in the bathroom surfaced in her mind, she felt a wave of nausea. It was so intense that even swallowing her own saliva became a challenge.
"Mrs. Mitchell, is everything alright? Is the food not to your liking?" The butler, noticing Ava's pallid complexion and her struggle to swallow, voiced his concern.
"I'm... I'm fine," Ava lied, forcing a few more bites past her lips. She knew she couldn't stomach another mouthful without risking regurgitation.
Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed through the room, "Ava."
She turned to find Alexander entering the dining room. Her heart skipped a beat, and a spark of resentment flashed across her face. She rose from her chair and swiftly exited the room, making a point to avoid him.
Alexander's gaze fell upon her barely touched plate before shifting to the butler, who could only return a helpless look.
"Mrs. Mitchell seems upset," he observed.
Alexander followed in the direction Ava had taken, his appearance weary from travel. He halted at Ava's bedroom door, raising his hand to knock, "Ava."
Silence greeted him from within the room, yet he knew she was there.
"Ava," he called out again, tugging at the doorknob only to find it locked from the inside.
Thud, thud, thud—his knocks echoed through the hallway, "Ava, open the door. We need to talk."
"Just say it from there," Ava finally responded, her voice slightly hoarse and, upon closer listen, laced with a sob.
"How can we talk like this? Open the door and let me in."
"Why can't we talk like this? I can hear you just fine, just say it."
"Why did you run at the sight of me and lock the door?"
"I wanted some time to myself."
"Let me in and I'll check your temperature," he insisted.
"I won’t open it. Just go. My fever's gone. You don't need to bother with me. Go keep Isabella company. Stop worrying about me!" Her voice was laced with anger.
"Ava, do you really think this door can stop me? If you don't open up, I’ll have to force my way in!" Alexander's voice held a hint of frustration now.
The woman behind the door fell silent for a long time.
Finally, after a couple of minutes, Alexander heard footsteps.
Click! The door swung open, revealing her pale face.
He approached with concern, raising his hand to her forehead, but Ava slapped his hand away.
"Don't touch me."
Her mind was drawn back to her imaginations of what happened in the bathroom. His hands, which must have been all over Isabella, now wanted to touch her? The thought filled her with revulsion.
