The Ex–Wife’s Redemption: A Love Reborn
Chapter 262
“Now help me to the bathroom. I need to pee.”
Henry’s voice was low as he leaned heavily against my shoulder, his weight making it nearly impossible for me to move. He deliberately brought his face close to mine, his lips brushing against my earlobe as he spoke. His warm breath caressed my skin, leaving me uncertain whether this
contact was intentional or accidental.
I stood frozen in place, bearing most of his weight, unable to escape that brief, soft touch against my earlobe. That spot had alway
been my sensitive area, and even now–after everything we’d been through–the sensation of Henry’s breath flowing across it sent electric currents through my body. My heart skipped a beat, then pounded fiercely in my chest.
“Can you stand up straighter?” I snapped, trying to mask my reaction. “Keep this up and I’ll leave you to manage on your own!”
Whether Henry’s actions were deliberate or not didn’t matter. His proximity had crossed a line, and I refused to let him continue. He obviously hoped to create some intimacy between us, to spark something in the aftermath of his heroic gesture. Instead, he’d only succeeded in angering me.
Recognizing my irritation, Henry quickly backed down.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his tone suddenly filled with remorse. “I didn’t mean to do that. It was unintentional.” He paused, studying my expression. “If you’re angry, you can hit me.”
I could tell he’d noticed my frown and understood its meaning perfectly–I didn’t want him this close, didn’t welcome his touch. At least he had the decency to acknowledge it.
Since he seemed to apologize sincerely, I decided not to pursue the issue. After all, he was injured, and I wasn’t the type to argue with someone in his condition–even if his “accidental” touch was entirely deliberate.
I allowed him to continue leaning on my shoulder as I guided him toward the bathroom. Despite his lean appearance, Henry was surprisingly heavy–all muscle and bone. By the time we reached the bathroom door, I was breathing hard from the effort. I pushed the door open and gestured inside.
“This is as far as I go,” I told him firmly. “You can handle the rest yourself. If you need anything, just
call.”
Though we’d been married for years and shared countless intimate moments, I had never assisted him with using the bathroom before. Given our current relationship status–with divorce papers already filed–this kind of intimate contact seemed completely inappropriate. Better to let him
handle it himself.
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When I suggested he continue alone, Henry immediately frowned. He shifted his weight, leaning even more heavily against me.
“Sophia,” he said softly, “I injured my right hand. I can’t unzip my pants.
He deliberately emphasized his right hand injury, clearly hoping to convince me to help him. Most of his weight remained pressed against me, preventing any chance of escape. I could tell he was nervous about my potential reaction, but he was determined to try his luck. After all, what did he have to lose?
I felt my patience evaporating. This man was becoming more shameless by the second. I was tempted to slap him to the floor.
“Can’t unzip your pants?” I replied coldly. “Fine, I’ll call one of the Harding security guards to help you. This arrogant man needed to be taught a lesson before his behavior became even more outrageous.
When I mentioned calling security, Henry’s face darkened. He hung his head like a scolded child, looking completely dejected. Slowly, he raised his bandaged right hand, speaking in a voice so quiet I could barely hear him.
“I’m right–handed,” he murmured. “Now that my right hand is injured…”
He didn’t finish the thought. He just stood there with his head bowed, giving the impression of someone who had suffered terrible injustice–a broken man deserving sympathy.
His expression reminded me so much of Billy’s face when my son felt hurt or upset. Something maternal stirred in my chest. I bit my lip and reluctantly said, “Fine. You go in first.”
Henry shuffled into the bathroom with small, awkward steps, head still hanging low, looking
pathetically small and helpless.
As I watched him enter, memories of our past intimacy came rushing back unbidden, heating my face and ears. I should have known Henry was up to no good. He was clearly trying to manipulate me, hoping to trigger memories of our physical connection.
I remembered one morning during our third year of marriage, after Billy had started kindergarten and I finally had some time to myself. I’d returned home after dropping Billy off and accidentally walked in on Henry using the bathroom. I’d screamed in surprise and immediately covered my eyes.
Henry, completely unfazed, had/whistled at me. “You’ve had oral sex with me before and now you’re too shy to look? Don’t be ridiculous.”
While my eyes were still covered, he’d dragged me into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and made love to me under the running water. I remembered how incredible it had felt–my screams of pleasure, calling his name repeatedly as if my soul had been drawn from my body. And now this
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Chapter 262
bastard was trying the same trick again. He was absolutely shameless,
I reminded myself not to fall into his trap. Taking a deep breath, I quickly moved away from the bathroom door. Henry heard my retreating footsteps, and the calculating gleam instantly vanished from his eyes, along with any trace of his wounded” expression. He stood before the toilet, staring at his bandaged right hand, sighing in frustration. Just as he was contemplating how to manage, the bathroom door opened again. Footsteps approached from behind.
Henry thought I had returned, his entire demeanor brightening with victory.
“Sophia, I knew you were compassionate,” he said eagerly.
“Mr. Harding, Mrs. Harding asked me to come help you,” came the deep voice of a security guard.
Henry’s face turned frighteningly dark. He clenched his jaw and spat out a single word: “Get out!”
I was hiding just outside the hospital room, straining to hear what was happening, my face full of satisfaction.
Ha! Henry thought he could manipulate me? Dream on!
A few seconds later, I heard him roar from inside the bathroom: “Sophia! You’re going to pay for
this!”
I remained silent, waiting until Henry had finished using the bathroom and returned to the bed, his clothes perfectly arranged. Only then did I re–enter the room.
Looking at his deflated expression, I couldn’t help the small smile that curled at my lips. This round was definitely mine.
Henry emerged from the bathroom, his beautiful eyes filled with exaggerated disappointment as he stared at me wordlessly. The unspoken message in those puppy–dog eyes was perfectly clear: Comfort me! Come comfort me right now!
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