Chapter 366 Adjusting One's Mood
Harper's voice was all shaky. "How the heck did this happen?"
"You've been MIA for three days, and Mr. Getty's been off his food. Barely touched anything, just sippin' on the soup you sent. Today, he didn't even drink that and started puking blood. Doc says it's acute gastric bleeding."
Victor was all frantic, "Can you get here now?"
The call cut off, and Harper's brain was a foggy mess, her hands and feet like ice. Why was Francis so damn stubborn? If she didn't show up, he wouldn't eat? He was a grown man; why couldn't he take care of himself? Still in the hospital, and he's pulling this crap? But then again, she knew she was partly to blame. She'd promised to look after him.
Harper's head was spinning, and she was all over the place. She told the driver, "To the hospital."
When she got there, Victor met her at the ward door, handed her a thermos, and said, "Mr. Getty just finished his treatment and is sleeping. When he wakes up, make sure he drinks this soup."
Harper nodded, pushed the door open, and walked to the bedside, gently setting the soup down.
Francis had his eyes shut; who knew if he was really sleeping.
His handsome face was pale as a ghost, looking even worse than three days ago.
Harper's heart hurt. How could he be getting worse?
She plopped down on the chair by the bed, watching Francis's lifeless form. On a whim, she reached out to check his breathing.
It was steady, and Harper finally let out a breath.
Just as she was about to pull her hand back, it got grabbed.
Francis cracked his eyes open and muttered, "I'm not dead yet."
The vibe got super awkward.
Harper yanked her fingers back, lowered her head a bit, and opened the thermos. "Since you're awake, have some soup."
She set up the bed, placed the small table down, and put the soup on it.
After all that, she had nothing else to say and just sat there, zoning out.
Five minutes ticked by.
Francis didn't touch the soup. Instead, he pulled out a financial mag and started reading like it was the most interesting thing ever.
The room was thick with tension. Normally, Harper wouldn't care if he ate or not.
But thinking about how he got hurt for her, quietly sent business her way, and never asked for anything in return, Harper's heart softened. She remembered Victor's words and nudged him, "Your stomach needs the soup."
Francis stayed silent, eyes glued to the magazine.
Harper felt kinda helpless. It was clear Francis was throwing a fit.
Seeing the soup getting cold, she softened her voice, "I didn't ignore your calls on purpose today. I was really busy."
Francis finally looked at her, his tone icy, "Busy the day before yesterday, yesterday, and today?"
Harper's heart skipped a beat under his gaze. "Yes, really..."
Francis cut her off, "Then go back to being busy."
His handsome face was dark, and his tone was cutting.
Harper couldn't sit still. She shifted her feet, ready to leave.
But then she heard Francis say coldly, "Spitting blood ain't gonna kill me."
Hearing that, Harper, who was just about to leave, plopped back down on the stool.
Francis's tense jawline relaxed a bit.
He sneered to himself. Harper was such a hypocrite. She could dish out all the harsh words, but the moment he said something, she was ready to bail. And she didn't even look guilty for messing with him the past couple of days.
Thinking this, Francis felt another pang in his stomach.
Seeing his handsome face go even paler, Harper figured she shouldn't argue with a patient. 'Forget it, let him be sarcastic. It doesn't hurt anyway.'
Harper asked gently, "If I feed you, will you have the soup?"
Francis still didn't respond. Harper felt a bit frustrated. "What do you want then? Can't you just accept some help?"
"No," Francis suddenly replied, "When did I say I can't?"
"Then why don't you say anything?" Harper picked up the soup, scooped a spoonful, and brought it to his lips.
Francis took it with a sullen face and then sneered, "A man never says he can't."
The double meaning in his words made Harper blush immediately, her voice filled with embarrassment and annoyance, "You're shameless."
"How am I shameless? Am I wrong?" Francis's eyes lifted slightly, and he smirked, "You should try me again. You never dared to say I can't before."
Harper's face turned as red as a ripe tomato. How could Francis's words get more and more explicit!
Francis continued, "If you dared to say that before, you wouldn't be able to get out of bed for a week."
Harper was both angry and embarrassed, glaring at him, "Say that again, and I'll leave right now."
As she spoke, she was about to put the bowl down, but Francis quickly grabbed her wrist and said, "I want to have that."
Then he took a sip from the spoon she was holding. The action seemed ordinary but was filled with intimacy.
Harper awkwardly pulled her hand back, saying, "This isn't convenient."
"Then do it however is convenient for you." Francis's mood seemed to have suddenly brightened, his voice no longer cold but slightly hoarse and magnetic.
Harper's cheeks felt warm. After feeding him the soup, she put the bowl down and said, "Not too much. Your stomach hasn't fully recovered."
She was concerned about him! Instantly, all of Francis's displeasure vanished.
He smirked, "I'll forgive you since you're concerned about me."
Harper hadn't mentioned that it was Victor's instructions, but Francis had already adjusted his mood.
Harper naturally didn't admit it but said, "Who's concerned about you? It's Victor's instructions."
Francis laughed, "Victor instructed you, but you didn't have to do it. Just like I spat blood, you could have found an excuse, but you still came and tend to me."
Francis's naturally handsome face could easily make one's heart flutter. Now, in a good mood, he was even more charming and irresistible.
He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling up, "If this isn't concern, what is it?"
Francis's reasoning was sound and logical.
Harper found herself unable to refute him. It seemed to make sense. Could it be that she really started to care about Francis?
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
