CHAPTER 16: CHAPTER 16: SO HARD, CARRY ME BACK TO BED

Rhys Hawthorne’s body stiffened, completely unprepared for Victoria Monroe’s actions.

Victoria Monroe was in a dazed sleep, forgetting she had already asked Julian Fordham for a divorce.

She just thought it was an ordinary afternoon, falling asleep on the sofa, muttering, "It’s so hard, carry me to the bedroom to sleep."

She must have been sleeping uncomfortably, which is why she subconsciously said this.

He bent down and lifted her along with the blanket.

He had carried Victoria Monroe in the past when shooting films, and she seemed lighter now compared to three years ago.

The petite woman was extremely tired and didn’t open her eyes while being carried upstairs, really mistaking him for Julian Fordham.

Her small head nestled against his neck, her warm breath spreading across his collarbone.

Tinging that icy white skin with a hint of blush.

As soon as she was placed on the bed, Victoria Monroe obediently grasped the blanket, buried her face in it, and kept sleeping soundly.

The electric curtains slowly closed, blocking out the desolate scenery outside.

Rhys Hawthorne closed the door and left.

The phone on the living room sofa kept vibrating, and he glanced down at the contact name [Julian Fordham].

Three years ago, her contact name was [Beloved Husband❤].

So now it’s just Julian Fordham.

*

Victoria Monroe had a restful sleep and rubbed her cheek against the pillow before she was fully awake.

The coolness made her abruptly open her eyes.

The pillow at home had a flannel texture, but this was clearly silk.

In the dark room, she detected a faint scent of sandalwood—Rhys Hawthorne’s scent!

Lying in an unfamiliar bed, it felt like stepping into another male creature’s domain, enveloped by his presence.

She reached for the bedside lamp, and under the soft yellow light, her face turned pale.

This was unmistakably Rhys Hawthorne’s bedroom, even the bedding was black.

She remembered sitting on the sofa playing matching games while waiting for Rhys.

Did she really fall asleep?

In her haze, she even complained about his couch being too hard and unreasonably asked to sleep on the bed?

The mere thought of this scenario made Victoria Monroe feel like going mad! What had she done!

She was embarrassed and flustered.

Victoria Monroe got off the bed, tidied up the blanket neatly, and then quickly went downstairs, stepping on the soft carpet.

The living room was silent, but there were sounds coming from the kitchen.

Following the sound, Victoria Monroe saw the tall figure busy at the countertop, the air filled with the aroma of food.

"Rhys," Victoria Monroe said with some embarrassment. She intended to invite him for a meal; how could the host end up in someone else’s bed?

The man washed the vegetables in his hand, turned off the water, and slowly wiped his hands dry before turning around.

Seeing Victoria Monroe’s embarrassed face, he calmly said, "I haven’t stayed here for a long time, only the master bedroom was made up."

"I’m really sorry, I... haven’t been sleeping well these days."

"I understand."

With a slightly cool demeanor, he brought it up first, "I saw the news."

Victoria Monroe met his deep, unfathomable gaze and tentatively asked, "Do you know who my husband is?"

He calmly replied, "Four years ago, I saw him come visit the set."

Yes, that day was Christmas Eve.

Julian Fordham traveled a long way to bring her apples, and it snowed heavily that day, while she, full of joy, wore a thin costume, running through the snow-covered bamboo forest.

That day, he coincidentally witnessed her gleefully rushing into Julian Fordham’s arms from the car window.

The heavy snow fell around her, painting her features like a picture.

Victoria Monroe smiled self-deprecatingly, "So you knew all along."

Recalling how she once threw caution to the wind, retiring for Julian Fordham, now the stark contrast as he made headlines with another woman—Rhys must think she’s both ridiculous and pitiful.

However, he didn’t comment on it, instead changing the topic, "It’s late today, let’s eat at home."

His gaze fell on her feet, "But first, put on some shoes."

Victoria Monroe slipped on her shoes and found her phone from the sofa.

These years, her calls had been few and far between.

Besides occasional calls from her grandmother, there were only delivery services and Julian Fordham.

Come to think of it, it’s quite sad; she seems to have no close friends around her.

Even if she died today, no one would know, right?

Looking at the numerous missed calls from Julian Fordham, her expression darkened.

How did her life end up like this?

That night she ran away from home, and aside from staying at a hotel, she had no other choice.

Even if she had silently died outside, no one would know, right?

"Dinner’s ready," Rhys Hawthorne reminded her.

Victoria Monroe returned to her senses, washed her hands, and walked into the kitchen to see if she could help with anything.

He had prepared a table of homely dishes, something Victoria Monroe would never have imagined Rhys doing a few years ago.

After all, those female supporting roles in the past used countless tricks to get close to Rhys, who was naturally cold and distant, often pushing people into icy waters.

Over the years, Victoria Monroe had grown accustomed to all kinds of gourmet dishes, but she actually preferred Sichuan cuisine, rich in oil and spice, the smoky and fiery taste of barbecue especially made it feel alive.

All the dishes on the table were Sichuan cuisine she loved.

Sichuan-style poached beef, mapo tofu, spicy chicken, two vegetable dishes, and pigeon soup.

"Did you really make this?" she was astonished.

"Doesn’t it look like it?" He handed her the chopsticks.

Victoria Monroe picked up a piece of spicy chicken, "Not really, it tastes just like the one we had in Zecheylle years ago. How did you make it?"

"Just casually made it."

Rhys Hawthorne got up and walked to the wine cabinet, "Want to drink some wine?"

Victoria Monroe shook her head, "Help yourself, don’t worry about me. I can’t drink."

He brought over a bottle of Romanee Conti, wiping the bottle with a towel, "Why? Afraid your husband will mind?"

Victoria Monroe, focused on her spicy chicken, casually replied, "It has nothing to do with him, I’m pregnant."

Rhys Hawthorne’s hand froze with the bottle opener in it.