Chapter 10 The Difference is Significant
The next day, Jessica got up early.
There was at least a tinge of guilt that lingered in her as she went to bed the night before. What if her clumsy accident had exacerbated his injuries? He had escaped death by not falling off a cliff, but what if her actions had inflicted further harm?
Silently pushing open the door to the main bedroom, she found the room incredibly quiet. The man, who was probably named Spencer, could either be asleep or in an exhausted slumber. She tiptoed over and checked his forehead for a fever—it was still a bit hot, likely from aggravating his wounds over the past few days. However, his breathing was even and calm, and there was no fresh blood seeping through the medical gauze on his body.
It didn't seem too serious.
Jessica went downstairs to the 24-hour pharmacy, bought some topical medicine and antibiotics, and carefully applied them after gently lifting the gauze and cleansing the wound.
After finishing up, Danielle's alarm clock in the other room went off. Jessica hurriedly slipped out of the main bedroom as if nothing had happened.
As the door opened and closed behind her, Jessica didn't see the man on the bed slowly open his eyes.
Outside the bedroom, the sounds of Jessica urging Danielle to get up and get ready for the day carried through. Danielle mumbled through her tooth brushing, "Mommy, my preschool teacher said we need to be kind, so you absolutely can't throw out Gabriel while I'm at school."
Jessica's slightly annoyed voice followed, "Hurry up and brush your teeth and come eat breakfast. Keep babbling, and I'll throw you out first!"
It was a simple, endearing, and lively morning.
Gabriel, who had grown accustomed to the chilly mornings abroad, felt as though he had stumbled into an earthly paradise filled with a strange sense of peace.
After Danielle took the school bus to preschool, Jessica hurried to organize her belongings. She had too many things to move from the main bedroom to the children's room, and she had not finished the night before.
She still needed a few pieces of clothing she often wore, which were in the main bedroom's wardrobe. Checking the time and seeing it was already 8:30, she warmed up the extra portion of soup before opening the main bedroom door.
She had assumed he was still asleep but was surprised to find that he had already sat up.
"Ahem," Jessica cleared her throat, "I need to grab a few clothes I wear often. I just heated the soup—would you like some?"
Gabriel looked toward the woman poking her head through the bedroom door, "Thank you."
Jessica went ahead and brought him the soup, placing it by the bed. "Well, you can eat it yourself. Right now, I really can't risk getting you anything greasy or salty. After all, your wounds are serious. These days, you'll have to stick with this."
"It's already much better," Gabriel said, looking at her again, "You saved my life and took such good care of me all these days, waking up early to change my dressing; I'm very thankful."
The man had dark, deep-set eyes that were enchantingly profound.
Jessica paused for a moment, swiftly shifting her gaze away from the man toward the wardrobe. "Just remember the big payback you promised; no need for thanks."
After finishing her instructions, Jessica quickly went to fetch some clothes, and once she had them, she left.
"Oh, right," the door suddenly opened again, and Jessica poked her head back in, "There's an old cell phone in the top drawer of the white nightstand; I tossed it in there when I got a new phone last year. The charger is in there, too, I'm not sure if it still works, but you can give it a try. If it works, I'll give you an extra SIM card so you can call me if there's an issue while I'm out. If I'm really tied up, I can have the old man from the clinic come up to check on you."
Gabriel slowly stood up, his movements clearly strained by the pain he was enduring, but he managed to get to his feet and retrieve the cell phone from the drawer.
Jessica watched him with a resigned mood. If he had just asked for help, she wouldn't have minded lending a hand. Did the injuries not bother him that much, or was he simply too proud to ask for help?
He seemed to dislike asking others for assistance. Even when discussing staying there, he spoke of compensation, and he was just as independent when it came to food—his time recovering there seemed more like a transaction than a plea for support.
The man, charming and well-mannered, carried an air of stubborn pride that showed in every detail—a stubbornness that surprisingly reminded her of Danielle, the young spitfire.
