Bride behind the mask novel (Marguerite) novel Chapter 807

Silas had shown up again.

He was wearing an oversized hospital gown, and the back of his hand still bore the telltale white tape from a recent IV drip.

So, he had come straight from the hospital.

Marguerite wasn’t particularly surprised. Deep down, she had a feeling Silas would seek her out, though she hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

“I’ll get you a glass of water.”

Marguerite headed to the kitchen, but then she remembered that Silas’s current condition meant he shouldn’t have anything cold. She picked up the kettle to make him some tea instead.

As the water poured into the kettle, Silas appeared behind her, gently taking the kettle from her hands and reminding her, “You’ve got a fever. Go sit down.”

Marguerite stood there, unmoving.

This was typical of Silas. Whenever he came to her place, whether it was to cook or handle anything else, he acted as if he were in his own home.

But this familiarity unnerved Marguerite.

“Why did you call off the engagement?”

Silas paused for a moment, then placed the kettle on the stove.

“Answer me,” Marguerite pressed impatiently as Silas took her by the wrist and led her into the living room.

The sky was gradually darkening, and it was only then that Marguerite realized the brilliant sunset was giving way to twilight.

Dusk always felt sadder than dawn, much like the way Silas was looking at her now.

He seemed hurt, and it unsettled Marguerite.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what? Why you called off the engagement with her?” Marguerite was confused.

Silas nodded slightly, “I don’t know how to explain.”

“Just say whatever you’re thinking, don’t make me drag it out of you,” Marguerite’s patience was wearing thin. Talking to him always felt like solving a riddle.

She was tired of these roundabout conversations and her tone was less than friendly.

Silas looked earnestly into her eyes.

“I don’t think I love her.”

Marguerite quickly reached out to touch his forehead, finding it, and his entire face, alarmingly hot.

“Your head hurts again?”

He opened his bloodshot eyes, grimacing in pain as he managed to utter one word, “Medicine.”

Marguerite instinctively reached for her bag, but then she remembered she’d given the painkillers to Violet earlier. She hurriedly pulled out her phone.

“I don’t have your pain meds here, I’ll call 911!”

Silas clasped Marguerite’s hand, “There’s some in the medicine box.”

Yesterday, when she had a fever, Silas had brought a medicine box and hadn’t taken it back with him.

Marguerite dropped her phone and quickly found the box, discovering several packs of painkillers at the bottom.

She helped Silas take a couple of pills, and he lay back on the sofa, gradually settling down.

He turned to look at Marguerite beside him, his gaze intense and sincere:

“From the moment you walked in today, there was this voice inside me telling me I couldn’t marry Violet.”