Chapter 494 Don't Go, I'm Begging You
Raymond was really heavy. Margaret struggled to get him onto the bed, using all her strength.
His coat was soaked through.
With his eyes closed, his brows furrowed, he coughed intermittently, like he was about to hack up a lung.
She reached out to touch his black suit, which was wet, cold, and clammy. Her first instinct was to help him out of his wet clothes.
But he had made her so angry.
After some hesitation, she begrudgingly helped him out of his coat, black shirt, black pants, and shoes.
She didn't have any men's pajamas. A few days ago, she had bought some sleepwear during a buy-one-get-one-free sale, and there was a large women's robe as a bonus.
Margaret found it and helped him put it on.
Suddenly, his arm draped over her shoulder. Before she could react, he pulled her into his embrace.
"Are you nuts?" Margaret was still angry, and she pushed him away irritably.
He fell back onto the bed.
Her fingers touched his palm, which was burning hot.
She realized something was wrong and touched his forehead. He had a fever. Back when he was broke, he had gotten caught in the rain too, but he wasn't this delicate.
She soaked a towel to clean his body, then placed the towel on his forehead. She took his hand and tucked it under the blanket.
Just as she was about to pull her hand away, his feverish hand grabbed her wrist. With his eyes closed, he seemed to be muttering in his sleep.
She leaned in closer and heard him urgently whisper, "Margaret, I was wrong. Don't go, please."
Margaret's eyelashes trembled. Now he knew he was wrong, but it was too late. She wasn't going to forgive him so easily.
She removed his hand, tucked him in, and then picked up his discarded clothes, heading quickly to the washing machine.
She lifted the lid, ready to toss them in, but hesitated. His coat wasn't cheap. What if she ruined it?
She was so broke now. What if he demanded compensation—
Margaret rolled up her sleeves and placed the clothes in the sink.
She turned on the faucet, soaked the clothes, and, not knowing much about laundry, followed the instructions on the detergent bottle, adding a bit of detergent and giving the clothes a cursory wash before rinsing them and hanging them on the balcony.
She opened the balcony window.
The air, carrying the scent of earth, rushed in.
The cool breeze tousled her long, black hair.
The rain had stopped, and the thunder had ceased. She lived in the suburbs, where there were few people, and at three or four in the morning, it was even quieter.
Occasionally, there were a few tall buildings, but their lights were out.
Margaret closed the window, washed her face with cold water, and kept reminding herself not to soften. Alvin was his man, of course he would speak for him.
She needed to make her own judgment.
Returning to the bedside, she pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed.
Afraid his high fever might be dangerous, she spent the whole night changing the cold compresses on his forehead. His fever subsided, and dawn began to break.
Margaret couldn't hold on any longer. There was only one bed in the house, so she went to sleep on the couch.
The next day, Raymond opened his eyes and saw himself lying in Margaret's one-bedroom apartment bed, while she slept on the couch. He couldn't help but smile.
It seemed she wasn't as heartless as she appeared; she still cared about him.
Raymond sat up and noticed he was wearing a very unflattering women's nightgown, made of cotton. One glance and he could tell the quality was poor.
But since Margaret had dressed him in it, he could tolerate the poor quality. When he was young and poor, he often wore hand-me-downs from relatives.
So when he later became wealthy, he had high standards for clothes.
His head hurt a bit, but he could bear it.
There were no men's slippers in the room, which pleased him. It meant she hadn't brought Daniel over for the night.
Fortunately, the slippers she bought were men's and quite large, fitting him perfectly.
Raymond walked over to Margaret, seeing her curled up on the couch, hugging herself like a wary little kitten.
He picked her up, and then carried her to the bed.
Asleep, Margaret was very quiet, not crying or fussing. Perhaps his warmth made her feel safe, as she nuzzled her head into his chest.
"Cold, so cold," she murmured.
Raymond was pleased with her reliance on him. Of course she was cold; she hadn't covered herself with a blanket. If she caught a cold, she wouldn't want to take medicine.
He really didn't know what to do with her.
He gently placed her on the bed and pulled the soft pink blanket over her.
He didn't know what had happened last night, but he knew she had finally fallen asleep and he couldn't disturb her.
Raymond took the house keys and went downstairs to the supermarket to buy groceries, hoping she would wake up to a meal he had cooked.
After selecting the ingredients and paying, he noticed people giving him strange looks and taking pictures with their phones. "Sir, why are you wearing a woman's nightgown? Is that your wife's?"
Raymond looked down and felt embarrassed, wanting to find a place to hide. He was wearing a loose cotton nightgown that reached his knees.
But his legs were slim and long, giving the outfit a unique look.
"Actually, you look pretty good in it," someone commented.
Even though Raymond felt awkward, he believed that if he didn't feel embarrassed, then others would. Years of battling in the business world had given him a calm and composed demeanor. He greeted the cameras and explained, "I have a wife, thank you for your concern. I was in a rush to buy groceries for her and forgot to change."
As he left the supermarket, he overheard a group of young women admiringly discussing.
"He has a wife? She's so lucky, he's so handsome and can cook."
"She must have saved the galaxy in her past life."
"I'm curious what she looks like to have such a man."
Raymond heard these comments and felt a pang of bitterness. To outsiders, he seemed perfect. But only he knew that in Margaret's heart and eyes, he was now less than a stranger.
Back home, she was still asleep.
Raymond expertly took out the ingredients and cleaned the ribs.
He skillfully chopped the vegetables into small pieces.
He was actually very good at cooking, though he rarely cooked for Margaret. He used to think Margaret, as the daughter of his enemy, didn't deserve his cooking.
Now, it had changed to, as long as she was willing to eat, he would cook every meal.
After busying himself in the kitchen, he found some band-aids and put one on each finger, hoping Margaret would feel sorry for him when she woke up.
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