Chapter 321: Chapter 321 Pain
Leo chuckled softly, his voice low and smooth, a hint of mischief hiding beneath it. "No. Aunt Clara made it."
Bella took another small sip, her face lighting up as warmth spread through her chest. "She makes everything perfect! It’s really good," she said happily.
Leo leaned back slightly, his lips twitching. "You’re welcome."
Bella blinked and looked at him in disbelief. "I said Aunt Clara made it, not you!" she said, frowning as if correcting a stubborn child.
He tilted his head, pretending to think. "But," he said slowly, "who asked her to make it?"
Bella stared at him, suspicious. "You?"
"Exactly." His tone turned mock-serious as he pointed at himself. "So technically, if I hadn’t asked, you wouldn’t be drinking it right now. Therefore," he paused, the faintest grin tugging at his lips, "you’re welcome."
Bella sighed dramatically, setting the mug down on her lap. "You’re so full of yourself."
Leo smiled faintly, his gray eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. "And yet," he murmured, "you’re still smiling."
Her cheeks turned pink, and she quickly looked away. "That’s because the drink is warm," she said stubbornly.
"Sure it is," he said softly, his smirk deepening as he watched her hide her face behind the cup again, pretending she wasn’t melting inside.
Bella was feeling so happy. Leo had been changing in quiet, gentle ways that made her heart feel light, and she really liked how her life was going. She had even found a real estate agent who promised to show her a few apartments and small houses soon. The thought made her giddy.
She had already started thinking ahead. If Leo really divorces me in the future, she told herself, then I should have my own place. A house for her safety and peace of mind—something small, cozy, with a garden and maybe a patch of forest nearby. She smiled as she imagined it: flowers along the path, sunlight pouring through the windows, and maybe even a tree where birds would sing in the morning.
Still, she wasn’t reckless. She wanted a neighbour close by. "What if I get scared at night?" she thought aloud, pouting as she scrolled through listings on her tablet. "If someone’s nearby, I can just run to their house." The idea made her giggle softly before she drifted back into more daydreams about how she’d decorate her future home.
But that night, the joy faded. She couldn’t sleep peacefully. A dull pain pulsed through her stomach, and every wave made her curl up tighter. She shifted and turned, her face scrunching up. "Ouch..." she whispered faintly, hugging the blanket closer. Her period pain this time hurt more than usual.
When Leo came into the room later, he noticed right away that something wasn’t right. The lights were dim, the air faintly cool, and on the bed, Bella lay curled into a small ball, her body trembling slightly. Dorabella sat beside her pillow, half-buried under the blanket.
He frowned, walking closer. "Bunny?" he called softly, his voice low but tender.
No answer.
He moved nearer, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. She didn’t wake. Her face was turned toward the pillow, her soft hair sticking slightly to her forehead. When he leaned closer, his heart clenched—her skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, her breathing uneven, and her brows faintly furrowed like she was fighting invisible pain in her sleep.
"Bella," he whispered again, this time gentler.
Still no response. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. The warmth of her skin and the tiny tremble of her body told him everything he needed to know. She wasn’t sick; she was hurting.
He sighed quietly, the worry in his eyes deepening. He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead; she wasn’t feverish, just uncomfortable. Then, without thinking much, he carefully moved Dorabella to the side and tucked the blanket closer around her, making sure she was warm.
For a moment, he just watched her. Her lips moved faintly, whispering something even she didn’t realize, and then she clutched the unicorn plush toy in her sleep, curling around it like a child seeking comfort.
A faint smile touched his lips. "You really can’t even suffer properly without looking adorable," he muttered softly.
The smile faded into a more thoughtful look as he sat there for a while, elbows on his knees, watching her chest rise and fall with each uneven breath. The moonlight through the curtains brushed against her face, making her skin glow faintly.
He hated seeing her like this—so small, so fragile, curled up on the bed with her soft hair sticking to her forehead. Every breath she took looked uneven, like her body was fighting its own rhythm.
He watched her silently for a long moment. Then he sighed, pulled out his phone, and typed into the search bar:
What to do if your wife is on her period?
The results loaded instantly. He scrolled down, scanning the advice with narrowed eyes.
Hot water bag. Massage. Orgas—
He blinked once, then twice, his finger pausing mid-scroll. "...What?" he muttered, brows furrowing. His jaw flexed as his cold gray eyes flicked back to the line, reading it again as if the words had personally challenged him.
For a second, the air around him shifted. His gaze darkened, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. He bit the inside of his lip, muttering under his breath, "Who writes these things..." Yet he still kept reading, every word carving new thoughts into his mind.
By the time he locked his phone, his expression had changed—less frustration, more focus. His eyes softened, yet a hint of danger remained in the way he moved. He placed the phone aside and climbed back onto the bed.
"Bunny?" he called softly, his voice low and husky, the sound brushing against the quiet like velvet.
Bella stirred faintly, half asleep. "Mm...?" she mumbled, not opening her eyes.
Leo leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. "You’re not feeling well, are you?"
She shook her head weakly, her brows furrowing again. "Hurts..."
His chest tightened. "Where does it hurt?"
She pointed at her stomach without opening her eyes, her hand trembling slightly.
"Alright," he murmured, his tone suddenly gentle. "Don’t move."
He slipped his hand under the blanket—