Chapter 36: So Even the Massage Was for Her
She pressed the seat adjustment button lightly, and the backrest rose slowly. Outside the window, rain fell in slanting threads, blurring the view.
Alexander Hamilton stood under the shade of a tree, his fingertips brushing gently through Annabelle Taylor’s hair. He tossed away the soaked tissue, his brow slightly furrowed. “Does your back still hurt today?”
“It’s killing me,” Annabelle groaned, rubbing her lower back with a pained whimper. “I haven’t had a single comfortable day since getting pregnant. Especially on gloomy days like this—it feels like every bone in my body is protesting.” Suddenly, her eyes brightened. “Wait, didn’t you learn how to massage? Give me one when we get home.”
“Alright.”
Annabelle tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Alex, you were so busy in your senior year of high school. Why did you take the time to learn massage?” She leaned closer, whispering near his ear, “Was it for me?”
Alexander sighed. “You were always complaining about neck pain back then. With college entrance exams coming up, I couldn’t let you take them with a stiff neck.”
“So you really wanted me to go to Peking University with you?” Annabelle blinked playfully.
“You already know the answer.”
“But you know my grades. Peking University was a pipe dream for me.”
Alexander’s gaze softened. “I just wanted you to come to Beijing. I wanted to start a new life there with you.”
Annabelle’s cheeks flushed pink as she rested her head against his shoulder. “I miss our school days. It’s a shame time can’t turn back.”
“Mhm.”
“But it’s okay,” she wrapped her arms around his waist, her voice muffled against his chest. “We took a long detour, but we still ended up together.”
A sharp car horn blared abruptly.
Evelyn Carter covered her ears instinctively. The driver in front slammed his palm against the steering wheel in frustration. “Is the car ahead moving or not? If we stall any longer, we’ll be stuck in this traffic forever!”
Finally, the vehicle in front began inching forward. The driver hit the gas, muttering under his breath, “I’m never picking up fares from the hospital again. This place is a black hole for traffic.”
“Sorry,” Evelyn murmured.
“Not your fault,” the driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “Next time, try walking to the intersection up ahead to hail a cab.”
“Okay.”
The driver abruptly changed the subject. “Are you married, miss?”
Evelyn’s fingers twitched. “…Sort of.”
“In this heavy rain, why didn’t your husband come pick you up?”
The corner of her lips curled into a bitter smile.
“Did you two fight?”
“No,” she turned to look out the window. “We never fight.”
“That’s a good sign.”
Evelyn didn’t respond. Some marriages couldn’t even afford the luxury of arguments.
Sensing her disinterest, the driver tactfully switched topics. “Back pain is nothing to ignore. Have your husband learn some massage techniques—he can help you at home.”
Evelyn closed her eyes. She remembered the first time Alexander had massaged her, his skilled hands moving with practiced ease. At the time, she’d been surprised that a man of his status knew such a thing.
Now, it all made sense.
Her phone buzzed suddenly. A string of exclamation marks from Vivian Dempsey lit up the screen: “HELP!!!”
“What’s wrong?”
