CHAPTER 95: CHAPTER 95: HAVE YOU EVER LOVED ME?

Poppy Hale was held by Declan Hawthorne.

She couldn’t break free.

His chin was resting right on her collarbone, making it uncomfortable.

The stubble on his face made Poppy Hale’s face itch slightly.

He was still wearing a suit, with a strong smell of alcohol on him.

He must have drunk quite a bit at the gathering.

Poppy Hale wanted to push him away, but the man’s arm was like an iron clamp, and she wondered how he usually worked out.

Back in college, Declan Hawthorne often went to the gym.

Poppy Hale was never interested in any of those machines.

Declan’s voice echoed right next to her ear.

"Poppy."

"Don’t leave."

Poppy Hale’s eyelashes fluttered.

To Declan Hawthorne, it sounded like he was muttering in his sleep.

The position wasn’t exactly comfortable, Poppy was almost lying entirely on Declan.

She felt like a crab flipped over with its belly exposed.

Trying to move, her torso felt as if it was tied up and placed in a steamer, just waiting.

This thought was somewhat amusing.

Poppy reached out and patted Declan Hawthorne’s face, "President Hawthorne, are you alive?"

Declan mumbled in response.

He was indeed quite drunk.

At the party, he was toasting back and forth, and ran into several old friends he grew up with in the compound.

Among them, one is now a rising star in Sterling, might even have a lot of collaborations with the Hawthorne Group in the future.

A dull pain throbbed from his temples.

He felt that Poppy Hale, whom he held in his arms, was oddly quiet.

Perhaps after drinking too much, he mistook the pillow at home for her.

This loosened his tongue.

"They all have wives calling them, I don’t."

"Why don’t you ever call me?"

Next to the crystal chandelier above, there was a ring of mirrors.

From there, Poppy could see her own face.

Declan’s head was buried in her neck, his voice lazy, almost like he was being playful.

It seemed he really was drunk.

She didn’t speak, so Declan pinched her face as if she were a doll, quite hard.

Poppy had to say, "I’m afraid of bothering you."

"Liar, you’d never call me first."

That was true.

Unless it was for work, Poppy would never call Declan.

She said nothing.

Declan bit Poppy’s earlobe and murmured ambiguously.

"Poppy Hale, you’re so heartless. Just left like that, have you thought about what would happen to me?"

Poppy’s ears were very sensitive.

Being held like that, her body shivered.

She wasn’t sure if it was his words that made her heart tremble, or if his actions were too overboard for her body to handle.

"They all laugh at me, saying I got dumped by you."

Declan’s voice was slightly hoarse.

Fingers caressing Poppy’s neck, the crook of his thumb pressing her chin, seemingly seeing themselves in the mirror too.

He started to laugh again.

"Mason Rivers told you I don’t like you, he was lying. He wanted to take you away from me."

Poppy thought.

Declan was talking a lot tonight.

Even when drunk in the past, he wasn’t this chatty.

Poppy reached back to feel Declan’s forehead.

No fever.

She wondered, "What Mason said, isn’t it true? It was you who said you’d never like Poppy Hale."

When she said this, she was surprisingly calm.

As if she had said it to herself in her heart many times.

Again and again.

To say something calmly, you must first convince yourself.

But time isn’t a band-aid.

Putting it on might make one momentarily forget those things.

The pain doesn’t heal, it just forever stays there.

Declan’s arms tightened.

"It’s not like that."

"Those... were just words said in anger."

At that time, it was his first relationship, and he didn’t know how to interact with girls.

No couple is completely free from fighting.

They never quarreled.

Poppy would never lose her temper in front of him, and he wouldn’t expose his emotions before her.

Declan admitted, he had some emotional avoidance.

He closed his eyes and kept feeling like the pillow tonight really was Poppy Hale.

"If I didn’t like you, why would I be with you for so long? I’m not crazy."

Poppy’s heart suddenly began to race.

She wanted to check if Declan indeed had a fever.

Her fingers reached out but were captured by Declan, who brought them to his lips and kissed, holding her fingertips in his mouth.

Poppy’s fingertips tingled.

She wanted to retract but was held firmly, hard to move.

The hand on her waist wouldn’t loosen either.

Poppy patted his arm.

"Let go of me."

"No, if I do, you’ll go far away again, and I won’t find you."

As if he felt greatly wronged.

Poppy had to be patient, softening her tone.

"I’m not leaving, let go of me first."

Declan stayed silent, unmoved.

Poppy patted his arm again, biting her lip, calling softly, "Declan, let go of me first."

Upon hearing that name, Declan indeed let go.

In a daze, he felt like he was back in college.

Poppy sat up from Declan’s body but didn’t leave.

She placed the pills in her palm, pouring a glass of water and handing it to Declan.

"Take it."

Declan looked at her.

"You feed me."

Poppy started to get a little annoyed.

He’s the one sick, not her.

Forcing his mouth open, she shoved the pills inside, placing the cup in Declan’s hand.

He remained still.

He just let the sugar coating on the pills dissolve, spreading bitterness in his mouth, the taste of medicine filling his mouth, wrinkling his brows.

Yet he was stubborn, only looking at Poppy standing in front of him.

Just looking made Poppy feel bitter.

This man, why is he so hard to deal with!

She had no choice but to bring the cup to his lips, "Drink water."

Only then, with her help, did Declan agree to drink the water, swallowing down the pills whose sugar coating had already dissolved.

Perhaps they were too bitter, for he drank a whole glass of water and still looked pained.

The robot delivering medicine also brought a patient meal.

Opening the meal box, Poppy’s tone became much firmer.

"Eat it up, or I’m leaving."

The words unexpectedly worked.

After he finished eating, Poppy planned to collect the dishes and leave.

Her task was done.

But when Declan sensed she was about to go, he grasped her wrist, pulling her back to his side.

Poppy reached out and not quite gently tapped Declan’s face.

She always felt that Declan was acting very unusually.

So she bluntly asked, "President Hawthorne, how much money is in your account?"

Declan paused, then shook his head.

"A lot, I don’t know."

Poppy cursed inwardly, capitalist.

"Declan Hawthorne, what’s your bank card PIN?"

Declan clearly whispered a string of numbers in her ear.

He could even say that, indicating he truly was drunk and hadn’t sobered up.

Poppy paused for a moment.

"Declan Hawthorne, did you ever like me?"

She was just a bit stubbornly trying to find an answer for her past self.

Whether all those years of care, all her efforts, were completely in vain.

In the past, Declan never said he liked her.

Only said he didn’t like her many times.

Declan held her, his head spinning.

All he could think of was those college days, Poppy lying in his arms asking if he liked her.

Back then, he never answered that question.

Now, he regretted it.

With a hoarse voice, he wasn’t sure if he was answering the past or the present.

"I did."