Chapter 370: What? Afraid I Can't Satisfy You?
"Who cares about you?" Margaret's face turned red as she spoke sarcastically, her eyelashes still glistening with tears.
Raymond shamelessly pulled her into his arms. "Being cared for by you feels amazing, Margaret."
"Didn't I care about you before?" Margaret furrowed her brows in disbelief.
She leaned against his chest, unable to see the bitterness and faint smile in Raymond's eyes.
She had cared for him before, when they first got together, before Marlon's accident. But back then, he didn't need her care.
He saw her concern as a psychological burden, a baggage he couldn't shake off.
After Marlon's car accident, she never truly cared for him again. If she did, it was for Marlon's medical bills, for money.
Even though they were married, their relationship and marriage had become increasingly complicated and pure.
Seeing him remain silent, Margaret added, "You must have upset me, that's why I don't care about you."
Normally, with such a charming husband—his looks, physique, wealth, status—how could she not be moved or care about him?
The only explanation was that he had upset her, making her angry.
Of course, it could also be her throwing a tantrum. Alvin had said she liked to throw tantrums and act spoiled. Raymond was probably the one who tolerated her.
Margaret looked up and asked him, "Did you pursue me back then?"
Though it was a question, her tone was confident.
Raymond's eyelids twitched, his expression changed slightly.
Of course not. Back then, it was all her orchestrating various encounters. He agreed to date and marry her because she was Marlon's daughter.
The truth can be cruel sometimes.
But telling the truth would be too hurtful. Because of the eager hope in Margaret's eyes and the girlish demeanor on her face, he knew she wanted to hear that he had pursued her.
It's sad. One lie requires many more lies to cover it up.
But he couldn't help but lie. The truth was too suffocating; he had to give her hope.
For some reason, Raymond didn't want to deceive her anymore. He didn't know if Margaret would remain amnesiac forever. If she regained her memory, his lies would be a disaster.
So he could only treat her better, hoping that when she regained her memory, she would fall in love with him again. Maybe then, she wouldn't be so resolute.
If she never remembered, that would be best. If she did, this was the only way. Raymond had learned to plan ahead after years in the business world.
Treating Margaret well now was also a precaution in case she suddenly remembered something.
"Is it inconvenient to tell me?" Margaret saw he hadn't answered for a while, her eyes flashed with disappointment, and she bit her lip.
Raymond cleverly responded, "If you don't mind, I can pursue you all over again."
Just like Margaret had pursued him back then.
After being in a high position and fighting in the business world for so long, he no longer believed in love. These elusive things, he had long seen through.
If it were before, he wouldn't have wasted time on dating and building a relationship with Margaret.
Now, he was willing.
If he successfully came out of surgery the day after tomorrow, he would slowly fulfill all her wishes. As long as she wanted, he could satisfy her.
"No need. You already pursued me back then. We're married now, what's the point of pursuing?" Margaret said, though her face still showed shyness.
She secretly made up her mind that if the surgery succeeded the day after tomorrow, she would treat her husband, Raymond, even better.
She would repay him for all the years he tolerated her whims and tantrums.
She wanted to prove that Margaret wasn't just good at throwing tantrums; she could also learn to love someone, to manage a marriage and a family.
She wanted to grow up. He fought and struggled outside, so hard and tired. She needed to take care of the home front, so he could work without worries.
Margaret wanted to prove that she could be a good wife, a virtuous mother.
But would there really be a miracle the day after tomorrow?
Margaret sighed uneasily. After all, her health was already in terrible shape.
Marlon's hometown was a particularly remote small mountain village.
Because Marlon had married a wealthy woman and started a business, he had become successful.
They arrived at the village.
It was afternoon, the sky was gloomy, with no sunlight.
The asphalt road was narrow, only wide enough for one car.
Worried about traffic, Raymond and Margaret got out of the car and walked.
The distance wasn't far, only a few minutes.
Raymond crouched down and carried Margaret on his back, heading towards the cemetery.
The road was lined with thick pine trees.
The pine tree canopy blocked out the sunlight, making it even gloomier.
Margaret lay on Raymond's broad back, feeling very secure and at ease being carried by him.
Alvin followed silently from a distance, watching Margaret and Raymond suddenly become so harmonious. Alvin was deeply moved; it hadn't been easy.
Margaret and Raymond had taken many detours. He only hoped that this time, Margaret and Raymond would be safe and the liver transplant would succeed.
Then the family could live happily together.
Margaret noticed a few gray hairs hidden in Raymond's short hair.
She reached out, found a few gray hairs among the thick strands, and pulled them out forcefully.
Raymond's body tensed up, and he gasped in pain.
"You have gray hair," Margaret looked at the gray hairs in her hand, then threw them away.
Raymond, carrying her, was walking uphill. "It's normal for people to get gray hair as they age."
For some reason, his words made Margaret's nose tingle.
Was he worn out because of her illness? It must be.
Otherwise, how could someone so young have gray hair?
She had already decided to treat him better, much better, to be obedient and good, to not let him down.
But she couldn't say such mushy words, so she pretended to be cold and dismissive. "If you get old, I won't want you anymore."
"What? Afraid I won't be able to satisfy you?"
"I can't be a young widow, can I?" Margaret bantered. "I'll find a young hottie to piss you off. Hmph."
Raymond's voice carried a chill. "He probably wouldn't even touch a strand of your hair before I chop him up and feed him to the sharks."
"Then you'd be making us a pair of ghost spouses?" Margaret deliberately misinterpreted his words. "Are you going to throw me into the sea too?"
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