CHAPTER 94: CHAPTER 94: HOLD GENTLY

Isabella originally thought this dress wasn’t quite suitable for her, the color was too bright, but when Harry Hunter said "it’s beautiful," she laughed and felt that orange seemed nice.

"Come over."

Harry Hunter put down the computer and patted the spot next to him.

Isabella didn’t move, contemplating whether to take this opportunity to leave. She had already found a guesthouse to stay, she couldn’t keep staying at his place.

"Do you want me to come over and hold you?"

Isabella’s heart skipped a beat, she hurriedly said, "No need!"

She sat beside Harry Hunter, maintaining a distance from him.

Harry Hunter, however, shifted closer, sticking to her, applied ointment to the wound on her forehead, and then put on a new band-aid.

Isabella felt that his actions seemed particularly gentle today. She herself didn’t take the injury seriously, but he’s always treated it earnestly, giving her a pleasant illusion of being cared for.

The aroma of food wafted from the kitchen, the man beside her carried the scent of his post-shower freshness, she was even wearing his oversized slippers, with the warmth of his fingers still lingering on her forehead.

Whether intentional or not, their lives and existence were intertwining bit by bit, Isabella even vaguely felt, this place was much like home.

An arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into someone’s embrace.

"Were you scared today?"

Isabella shook her head, she’s not that timid. In the past, she had witnessed Alexander Parker doing more gruesome things.

She was simply not expecting his combat abilities to be so remarkable, just shocked.

"Then from now on, you’re not allowed to stand in front of me anymore. No matter what happens, remember, you’re only allowed to stand behind me—whatever happens, I’ve got it."

Isabella looked up at him, her eyes slightly wet—was he saying he wants to protect her, shelter her from the storms?

She suddenly hugged Harry Hunter’s waist, burying her face in his chest, softly said, "Mr. Hunter, thank you."

Harry Hunter enjoyed her hug and the barely noticeable dependency. He tightened his arm to pull her closer: "You’re welcome."

"Mr. Hunter."

"Hmm?"

"Hold me more gently, you’re too forceful..."

Harry Hunter found the remark very familiar, recalling a certain scene. His eyes revealed a faint smile. He replied lightly, "You hugged me pretty tightly too."

"Did I?"

"You did."

"No! I hugged you very gently, my strength is inherently small!"

"I think I held you very lightly too."

"You didn’t hold me lightly, alright?"

"Really lightly, you can try again if you don’t believe me."

"It wasn’t light at all!"

"It was really light."

...

The two argued back and forth for a while before Isabella realized, they both were so childish, very much like a young couple playfully bickering, and she was nestled in Harry Hunter’s arms as they bantered.

Harry Hunter enjoyed this atmosphere, liked her bickering with him. This Isabella seemed vibrant, like a budding flower preparing to bloom.

Unlike when he first met her, her gaze was cold, as if she was ready to detach from the mundane at any time, shutting off all emotions.

He harbored the desire to nurture this flower, wanting her to be more animated, wanted to witness her blooming—it certainly would be beautiful and worth anticipating.

"Isabella, we’re married."

"Hmm?"

"From now on, you have to live at home, not allowed to stay at any guesthouse."

Isabella was surprised: "How did you know?"

"That’s not important. What’s important is, it’s not safe outside."

"I can’t stay here, or else I’d feel bad for making you sleep on the sofa."

Harry Hunter wanted to say then they should just sleep on the bed together, but the words turned into: "I’ll have Connor buy another bed."