Chapter143 Did You Ever Like Me?
Winona was at a loss for words.
Turning back, she saw Zachary Bailey sitting with that entitled look, momentarily puzzled by his apparent scheming. "The doctor said the bleeding has stopped—you'd recover faster at home."
This place was far from the tranquil and lavishly decorated confines of a private hospital room. In contrast, the Bailey family had private doctors, maids—certainly a better environment to recuperate in than a bustling public hospital.
Zachary Bailey gazed at her, his eyes cradling a carefree smile, "Who knows if the bleeding will start again? My place is so isolated, no one's around at night. What if I pass out from blood loss? That'd be the end of it."
Winona Sullivan glared at him through gritted teeth, "What do you want, exactly?”
"Stay at your place—"
Before Zachary Bailey could finish, Winona Sullivan turned to the doctor, "Doctor, could you arrange a hospital stay, please?"
Thankfully, it wasn't a renowned public hospital, so the admission process went smoothly.
The hospital room was on the fifth floor, fitted with a modest single bed.
Winona Sullivan expected some sign of disgust from Zachary Bailey. After all, born into luxury, accustomed to the finest, he might have a touch of germophobia—the pristine standards of Regal Oaks spoke volumes. But he merely glanced at the bed and, without fuss, slipped off his shoes and lay down.
After picking up toiletries from the downstairs store, she took a shower, dealt with the bloodstains on her clothes, and then told him, “I left a towel in there for you. You can go straight in and wash up.”
Zachary Bailey, who had been resting with his eyes closed, peered over at her words. "It hurts. Don't wanna move."
His nose looked considerably swollen, his face streaked with dried blood, wearing a pitiable, bedraggled expression.
It was only noon, but Winona Sullivan, having barely slept the night before, was fighting to keep her eyes open. Seeing him unmoved, she chose not to press further—his grime was not her concern.
As she lay down, Zachary Bailey's cold gaze fixated on her back. After ensuring she had indeed decided to ignore him, he spoke up, "Winona Sullivan..."
His tone was serious.
Only a few minutes had passed from the time Winona climbed into bed until Zachary called out to her, and she was already slipping into deep sleep.
Half-listening, she responded with a noncommittal grunt.
Frowning, Zachary felt every inch of pain from his nose up to his forehead, throbbing at his temples. With a commanding tone, he said, “Go get some water and help me clean up.”
Upon hearing that, Winona Sullivan mustered a shred of consciousness and turned to look at him, "It's just a bumped nose. Not like you broke an arm or a leg."
"My hand hurts too," he grumbled.
Winona gave a sarcastic laugh, more out of irritation than amusement.
Zachary Bailey knew what was coming. He replied with a sarcastic edge, "Had someone not packed on the pounds, I wouldn't be in this mess. Or is it that you don't want me to recover too quickly? Gives you a chance to fuss over me a little longer."
He had baited her with that last remark, and despite herself, Winona took the bait. She couldn't help it; she was so eager to shake off this man.
After all, enduring him was nothing in comparison.
Zachary could see Winona fighting off sleep, yet at his last taunt, she stubbornly got up from the bed and went to fetch water from the bathroom with an air of weary resignation.
A profound sense of exhaustion and helplessness overwhelmed him. He wasn't blind; he could see that Winona genuinely wanted a divorce, she wasn't merely playing at their usual spat.
Winona handed him the wrung-out towel, but Zachary didn't take it.
Fine. He could play the magnate.
After cleaning the blood off his face, Winona grabbed the water to head to the restroom and heard Zachary whisper, "Three years into our marriage, did you ever actually like me?"
For a moment, Winona almost thought he'd gotten a bump too hard on the head. Why else would he ask something that sounded so... vulnerable?
In front of her, Zachary always behaved like an emotionless automaton. Throughout countless nights, she'd wondered if she'd married an android devoid of passion and desire.
Her movements paused, and after a lengthy silence, she murmured an affirming, "Yeah."
Acknowledge a past affection was no disgrace; there was no sense in hiding or denying it.
From his angle, Zachary could only see the crown of her dark hair. He allowed himself a subtle curve of the lips, "And now?"
Winona replied without hesitation, "Not anymore."
Her response wasn't entirely accurate; it was more about her having chosen to give up. Liking or not liking him wasn't relevant anymore.
Since it no longer mattered, there was no need to indulge in reflection, to fall repeatedly into the past—an unrequited love that was nearing its end, anything but pleasant.
Zachary's smile faltered, a shade of darkness casting over his brows and eyes instantly, his demeanor shifted to something more foreboding, he scoffed, pulling the blankets over himself, "Your love sure is cheap."
As fickle as ever, just like the day they got married.
She had coerced him into marriage in bed, and moments after getting out, she was already backpedaling, bluntly asking for money.
Winona Sullivan couldn't help but notice how quickly this man's demeanor had shifted.
She turned her head and saw Zachary Bailey with his eyes closed, putting on an air that he had no intention of engaging with her.
Lunch was brought up by the bodyguard. The culinary finesse evident in the meal homemade by the household staff—a stack of containers, each filled with light, nourishing dishes that aid in healing.
Winona had thought Zachary Bailey's insistence on hospital admission was a spur-of-the-moment caprice, expecting him to check out the next day. To her surprise, he seemed utterly at ease, showing no signs of wanting to leave.
When the nurse came in to check his temperature and casually mentioned the need to settle the bill, Winona, impatiently queried Zachary, "How long do you plan to squat here?"
"A week, maybe two. We'll see."
Winona was fuming. She stormed downstairs—not entirely to pay the fees. Rebecca Davis had arrived.
Rebecca had heard about the ordeal from Winona the night before and decided to come by early to offer some comfort and deliver something to her.
Rebecca was waiting in the lobby, but what Winona hadn't anticipated...
She'd come with Matthew Watson.
"Why are you two together?" Winona asked, puzzled. As far as she knew, they weren't particularly close.
"Just ran into Miss Davis at the entrance and learned she was here to see you, so we came up together," Matthew Watson said with a warm smile and soothing voice, the epitome of refinement in every gesture, "How's Zachary doing?"
Winona managed a tight-lipped grin, "He's alright."
Rebecca, puzzled, asked, "Didn't you say he just banged his nose and it was no big deal? Why's he still in the hospital?"
Winona scoffed. " Maybe he's got a screw loose after hitting his head."
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