Chapter 428 That Night of Banana Leaves and Night Rain, He Never Waited for Her
Sarah gently closed her eyes.
"This isn't right, Oliver. Let go of me," she whispered.
But he didn't let go.
His strong arms tightened around her, pressing against her skin, tangled in the dark gray sheets. Her occasional struggles faded away between the sheets.
Her long hair cascaded over her body, swaying gently with her movements, incredibly alluring.
Oliver's blue eyes gazed at her with a seductive intensity.
He leaned in, slowly seeking her lips, kissing her deeply.
He didn't close his eyes, watching her every expression. When she softened slightly, he propped himself up, his muscles taut. One of his hands supported her waist, pulling her closer, eliciting a soft sigh from her.
She lowered her eyes, appearing vulnerable despite her elevated position.
Oliver kissed her neck.
Outside the window, the banana leaves glistened in the night.
After the kiss, she lay on his shoulder, her heart filled with guilt.
"What are you thinking about?" Oliver asked, leaning against the headboard, still holding her slender waist. He didn't push further, just maintaining that contact. Looking down at her, he saw only her disheveled hair and slightly open collar.
His breathing was uneven.
The small bedroom was filled with a scent of Nicole, diluting the tension between them.
Sarah shook her head gently.
She didn't want to speak, didn't know what to say. Struggling to get out of bed seemed even more pretentious. She didn't want to move, just lay on his shoulder.
Oliver understood women.
He didn't say anything more.
He turned to cover Nicole with her small blanket, then draped his jacket over Sarah's shoulders, letting her lean against him. They both drifted off to sleep.
They didn't know how long they slept.
Maybe just a moment, or maybe two or three hours, but they never imagined that this brief embrace would be their only warm memory for years to come.
When they woke, the sky was already brightening.
They felt softer.
Sarah's voice was slightly hoarse. "I'll make some oatmeal for Nicole, and an egg yolk."
Oliver stopped her.
His Adam's apple bobbed. "Worried about me?"
Sarah didn't reply, and any answer seemed inadequate.
The sky was just beginning to brighten.
She busied herself in his small apartment kitchen.
When they got married, his finances were always good. Even if she wanted to cook for him, it was in a kitchen of at least 1000 square feet, with several servants helping. Not like now, it was just her working in a small space where they could bump into each other.
Sarah's slender waist was embraced from behind.
Oliver pressed against her, his voice husky with the maturity of a man, "Let's take the kids out for dinner on Friday. Jacob really wants to see Nicole."
Sarah didn't stop what she was doing.
"Then you should let me take care of Nicole."
Oliver didn't answer directly. He had just taken a shower and changed into clean clothes, smelling fresh. He wrapped his arms around her, his words unclear. "I had something to tell you that day."
Sarah didn't agree.
She softly told him to leave, saying he was distracting her.
Oliver wasn't clueless. A woman doing housework in his home, even for the child, was intimate enough especially since they had just embraced and kissed in bed.
He didn't bother her further; he just mentioned the place, a high-end lakeside restaurant.
Sarah said she'd consider it.
He let her go and walked to the window, playing with a cigarette between his fingers, looking at the sky and the fresh green banana leaves outside.
In the morning, dew rolled gently on the leaves, clear and bright.
He took out a check from his pocket, for 50 million dollars, his savings for the past six months.
He wanted to give it to Sarah, for her and the kids.
Yes, he wanted to let her raise Nicole.
He thought that if Sarah wanted a relationship of complete equality and respect, he was willing to give it to her. He would not only give her Nicole but also actively seek treatment, recover, and rebuild his career. If she still wanted him, then he would promise her a lifetime of happiness.
Oliver's heart had never been so full.
He had a lot on his mind.
If his health failed, he would apologize to her on his deathbed, saying, "I'm sorry, Sarah, for disrupting your life."
Behind him, footsteps approached. Sarah came out of the kitchen.
She looked at his back and said softly, "The oatmeal is warming in the pot. Eat the egg yolk while it's still tender. I also made two fried eggs and a bowl of pasta... With Claire not here, find someone to help."
Oliver turned around.
He looked at her face, "I'll have Zoey find someone! Let's have breakfast together before you go."
Sarah didn't agree. She said softly, "Jacob is still at home. I'm worried."
She glanced towards the bedroom, reluctant, but still put on her coat to leave.
Oliver grabbed her hand. "Let's have dinner that day!"
Sarah lowered her head to change her shoes, her movements slow. After a while, she softly agreed.
Oliver felt relieved; his gaze towards her changed.
He wanted to be close to her, but Sarah refused.
She looked down at her shoes and said softly, "Oliver, I understand what you mean. I'll give you an answer in a week."
Sarah left in a hurry.
Sitting in the car, she realized she was exhausted.
She wasn't a naive girl. She understood her own heart. Physically and emotionally, she no longer rejected Oliver. Maybe it was because he took good care of Nicole, or because of his integrity. She knew her heart was softening.
Sarah leaned back in the seat, smiling faintly and bitterly.
After a while, she started the car and drove towards the Moore Mansion.
In the early morning, the Moore Mansion was shrouded in a light mist.
In the courtyard, a few servants were cleaning, and the sound of sweeping added a touch of life to the waking house.
Sarah was about to go to her room.
A servant called out to her, pointing to a broken pink glass lamp hanging from the laurel tree, "Ms. Moore, this is broken... Do you still want it?"
Sarah walked over, taking down the lamp, the one Oliver had broken that night.
The servant quietly left.
Sarah looked at the broken, pieced-together lamp, remembering Oliver's words. He said he had something to tell her.
She knew he wanted to get back together.
But could broken feelings be pieced together like a broken lamp?
Sarah stood silently under the laurel tree for a long time.
She was about to leave when a gentle, cool voice came from behind, "Have you softened? Do you want to get back with him?"
Sarah turned, surprised, "Nicholas?"
Nicholas walked up to her, taking the broken lamp from her hands. He looked at the faint marks on her neck, knowing she had been with Oliver.
She hadn't come home all night; she was with the man who had hurt her.
They had made love.
Nicholas's voice was colder than ever. It was usually gentle and refined, now sharp. He looked into her eyes and asked, "In Vesper City, it was physical needs. Last night... was it true feeling?"
Sarah almost forgot to breathe, "Nicholas! Do you know what you're saying?"
"I know!"
The wind tousled his hair, blurring their eyes, making his next words flow smoothly, "Of course I know what I'm saying! Sarah, if he can, why can't I..."
Sarah's eyes widened.
She interrupted him, "Nicholas, you're crazy!"
Nicholas looked into her eyes, speaking clearly, "Sarah, listen to me, I'm not crazy!"
He wasn't crazy, but Matthew was about to lose it.
A slap landed on Nicholas's face.
It was from his beloved grandfather, who had never laid a finger on him, his pride and joy... But now, he seemed to have lost his mind, saying such shocking things.
Matthew pointed at him, then looked at Sarah.
"Both of you, to the study!"
He said, then left first.
Perhaps too shocked and disappointed, Matthew's legs gave out, stumbling a few steps.
In the courtyard, the morning dew fell silently.
Sarah felt a chill all over...
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