Do You Still Love Me When We Meet Again? (Aubrey and Damon) novel Chapter 40

Chapter 40

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Damon paused, his gaze falling to Aubrey’s back. He let out a soft, heated breath and carefully lifted her nightgown.

Last night, a nurse had cleaned her wounds and applied the ointment.

This was the first time he’d seen the injuries on her back.

His breath hitched, and a heavy weight settled in his chest.

The wounds weren’t terribly deep or gruesome, but her skin was red, swollen, and broken, faintly weeping streaks of blood. They looked like two crimson vines crawling across her delicate, smooth, pale back, standing out in a way that was almost unbearable to see.

It was like two deep crimson, glaring tire tracks carved into freshly fallen snow, a sight that twisted his gut.

As she lay on her stomach, her already voluptuous figure, pressed against the mattress, created a tantalizing gap along her waist, revealing a sliver of

skin.

He tore his heated gaze away, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Slowly, he pulled the duvet, tucking it against her side.

Blocking a tempting glimpse.

Aubrey felt a chill run down her back. Her already shy and nervous heart became even more embarrassed by his gesture.

They were ex–lovers who knew each other intimately.

Sometimes, a single look, a simple gesture, was enough for them to know exactly what the other was thinking.

No matter how much Damon was a gentleman, he was still just a man.

Aubrey felt a cool touch on the skin of her back as his fingertip, carrying ointment, gently smoothed it over the area, sending a shiver through her skin.

The wound stung faintly, and her body tensed.

She held her breath, her stiff fingers clutching the duvet tightly.

In that moment, a flicker of shameful longing sparked within her.

She hungered for Damon’s brief, warm care.

Transported back to a cherished past in her daze, the illusion made her feel vulnerable, desperate to cry.

The quiet air grew thick with a palpable heat. She vaguely registered Damon’s deep, ragged breaths, and his movements, quickening with each stroke, took on an unsettling edge.

Suddenly, the hand applying the ointment to her back paused.

“Done.”

Without a beat, Damon abruptly said the word, set down the ointments, and quickly rose to leave.

His departure was so sudden, so rushed, Aubrey hadn’t even processed it by the time the bedroom door clicked shut.

She didn’t even have time to utter a thank you before Damon was already out of her room.

The room went utterly silent.

Aubrey lay sprawled on the bed, her bare back exposed to the cool air. Her frantic heart gradually settled.

Once the ointment dried, she sat up, pulled on her clothes, and slipped into a thick coat before heading to the bathroom to get ready.

Today was Winter Solstice, a traditional holiday.

Damon had made her peanut–filled glutinous rice balls and dumplings for breakfast.

For the first time in five years, she felt a sense of celebration on the Winter Solstice, a warmth spreading through her chest.

After finishing breakfast and washing the dishes, she curled up on the sofa, scrolling through TikTok

Her TikTok feed had somehow transformed into a military channel, pushing videos about national affairs, international news, and foreign wars.

Algorithms were a strange thing.

She actually stumbled upon Tracy’s account.

< Chapter 40

The account documented her daily life as a war correspondent in a war zone.

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Perhaps it was because Damon followed her, and she was linked to him online, that she stumbled upon Tracy’s account.

Watching each of Tracy’s videos, she felt a mix of worry and envy.

She worried for her safety in the war zone, yet she envied her fearlessness, her bravery and confidence.

Like her two brothers, Tracy was an exceptional person.

Time flew by, and before she knew it, most of the day had slipped away.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

Aubrey, bewildered, checked the time, her gaze darting to the door.

At this hour, Damon shouldn’t even be off work. Plus, he had fingerprint access.

So who was it?

She went to open the door, still in her slippers.

A small display screen on the door showed the feed from the outdoor camera.

She tapped the screen, revealing her mother, Layla.

Aubrey froze. Her normally calm heart began to pound with agitation, and for a long moment, she made no move to open the door.

Damon couldn’t possibly handle her mother.

Without money, her mother would never let it go.

Her brother’s wedding was only ten days away. She must be here for money again.

“Aubrey.” A voice called out from the other side of the door, followed by a knock.“Are you home?”

She could put her off for a moment, but not indefinitely. If she didn’t answer, there was no telling how long Layla would carry on like this.

Aubrey opened the door.

“Aubrey…” Layla’s eyes crinkled with a smile, her gaze unusually soft.

Aubrey’s expression remained cool, her voice flat as she asked, “Mom, how did you get in?”

“I waited downstairs for a while, and when you didn’t come down, I just tagged along behind someone.”

“What do you want?”

“Today is the cold, so I made some soup and brought them over for you.” Layla offered the insulated container she was holding, her eyes soft with a hint of maternal warmth.

Aubrey paused, a flicker of disorientation in her eyes. She didn’t reach for it.“I don’t like savory rice balls.”

Her brother loved savory soup. Ever since he was old enough to eat them, their family would make them every Winter Solstice, the soup brimming with all sorts of meats. For her, the taste was always just… off.

“They’re sweet,” Layla insisted, pressing the insulated container into Aubrey’s hand. “Peanut filling. You like those.”

Aubrey’s hand, gripping the box, stiffened almost imperceptibly.

The realization dawned on Aubrey: her mother did remember her favorite peanut soup; she just couldn’t be bothered to make a separate, sweet hatch. for her on Winter Solstice.

Her mother’s attempts to curry favor, in this moment, felt like a sharp sword plunging into her heart once more, reopening old wounds deep in her memory. The pain throbbed, a dull ache beneath the surface.

A breathless tightening seized her chest, and Aubrey released a tight breath. “Mom,” she said, her voice strained, “you don’t need to go to all this trouble. I told you I don’t have money, and even if I did, there’s no way I’d just hand it over to Brendan for free.”

“I don’t want your money, Aubrey,” Layla quickly interjected. “Your brother’s wedding expenses are covered. Chloe’s pregnant, isn’t she? Her parents

were anxious, so we negotiated the amount to eighty–eight thousand dollars. We borrowed several more thousand from your uncle to cover the rest. Once the wedding banquet is over and we collect the gift money, I’ll be able to pay him back,”

Aubrey just stared at her.

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Her mother seemed like a different person, someone she barely recognized.

And yet, not entirely unfamiliar.

At least, before Brendan was born, her mother must have loved her.

Putting aside the current tension surrounding her brother, Aubrey still harbored a few cherished memories of her mother’s care. When she was little and sick with a fever or cold, Layla would carry her on her back to the clinic at three or four in the morning, waking multiple times in the dead of night to press a hand to her forehead, and patiently coax her into taking medicine with a piece of candy.

Her mother never missed a single parent–teacher conference.

Despite Layla’s incessant nagging, she’d also remind Aubrey to dress warmly for the cold, drink plenty of water at school, and cut back on milk tea.

Amidst the sharp, painful shards of her past, broken by her mother’s blatant favoritism, Aubrey desperately searched for a sliver of sweetness, a reason to convince herself that Layla genuinely loved her too.

It made the pain a little more bearable.

“Thank you, Mom.” Aubrey clutched the insulated food container, taking a step back, ready to close the door.”

Layla took a step forward, bracing the door open.“Aubrey,” she began, her voice softer,“can Mom come inside and see where

you

live?”

“I live with roommates,” Aubrey said, “it’s not convenient.”

Layla’s hand recoiled immediately.“Oh,” she stammered, “well… never mind then.”

Aubrey didn’t close the door, watching Layla stand rooted to the spot in the doorway.“Is there anything else?” she asked, her voice flat.

Layla stammered,“Uh…could you…could you please unblock me? Sometimes I try to reach you, but I can’t get through.”

Aubrey hesitated, her heart seizing in her chest, and her eyes instantly welled with tears.

There wasn’t a child in the world who didn’t love their parents.

But that love slowly eroded with disappointment. It didn’t vanish; was merely suppressed.

“Aubrey, honey! I promise I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t want to again. I won’t make you find your brother a job, buy him a car, a house,

or invest in his business. If you want to help him, that’s fine, but if you don’t, it’s really okay.”

Aubrey clutched the thermos’s fabric strap, her knuckles turning white and stiff, her nose stinging.“Mom, how much did Damon give you?”

“None.” Layla shook her head, her eyes earnest.“He didn’t give me a single cent.”

“Did he threaten you?”

“Not at all.” Layla gave a small, appreciative smile. “He’s a very kind person, so well–mannered, and very handsome. He’s a truly remarkable man.”

Aubrey was utterly bewildered.

Layla’s

i’s eyes suddenly brightened, and she lowered her voice.“Oh, that reminds me, I just heard some gossip downstairs in your complex–Caleb got arrested by the police. No idea what he did. You always had such good judgment, seeing right through him that he was no good. I completely misjudged him before; I even thought he was a decent, honest guy.”

He was arrested last night, and it’s already all over the complex this morning.

Looks like the neighborhood gossip mill is incredibly efficient.

“I got it. You can go now.” Aubrey’s spirits felt a little low.

“Then remember to unblock Mom,” Layla said.

Aubrey offered no reply, slowly closing the door.

Layla’s voice carried from outside the door.“Aubrey, your brother’s wedding is during the upcoming holiday season. Don’t forget to come back, and bring Damon with you.”

Aubrey turned, leaning her back against the door, feeling as though her entire heart had been scooped out.

Clutching the heavy bag of soup, her eyes suddenly welled up.

What on earth had Damon said to her mom?

Her mom was actually being nice to her now.

23:41

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Whether it was genuine or not.

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Having longed for a mother’s love since childhood, she was willing to believe, to be deceived–even knowing her mother’s affection was false.

She carried the soup into the living room.

She placed them on the dining table and opened the bag to look.

Their shapes were inconsistent, some larger, some smaller–definitely not machine–made.

She sat down, scooped one with a spoon, put it in her mouth, and chewed slowly.

She wasn’t hungry; she just wanted to taste what her mother’s homemade soup was like.

The peanut filling still had some uncrushed bits, giving it a slightly gritty texture, and it wasn’t quite sweet enough.

She remembered the taste, a flavor she hadn’t had since she was seven, not since her younger brother had been old enough to eat soup.

It was her mother’s taste, exactly as she remembered it from childhood.

As she chewed, a sharp, burning lump suddenly formed in her throat, the soup catching in her mouth, making it impossible to swallow.

Tears welled uncontrollably in her eyes, and a heavy knot formed in her chest.

Clutching the spoon, she lowered her head and forced the soup down.

Large tears splattered into the bowl.

Was her mother finally starting to love her again… all because of Damon?

Aubrey set down the spoon, stood up, pulled a tissue to wipe away her tears, and walked to the balcony to look down.

Her mother was still downstairs in the complex, sitting on a stone bench and chatting with a few older women. Judging by the way they huddled together, heads bent in hushed whispers, Aubrey knew they were definitely gossiping about something.

Perhaps her mother just had a preference for sons, loving her brother more, rather than truly not loving her.

Why did she even crave fair love?

Or perhaps, her mother was simply uneducated, her worldview too narrow, and a little too controlling. Those were character flaws, she reasoned, not a sign of not loving her.

She let out a heavy sigh, pulled her phone from her pocket, and unblocked her mother on the Whatsapp.

12:40 PM.

Damon pushed open the front door, swapped his shoes for slippers, and came in, an insulated lunchbox in hand.

His gaze landed on the sofa. Aubrey was curled on her side, legs slightly drawn up, fast asleep.

A soft smile touched his lips, and he let out a resigned sigh. He gently set the lunchbox on the coffee table, then went into the bedroom, retrieved a blanket, and draped it over her.

He didn’t wake her, instead settling into the armchair beside the sofa. He sat quietly, his deep, warm gaze fixed on her lovely, sleeping face.

Her hair was so long, so dark, so soft. It must smell incredible, he mused.

Her face was so beautiful, her skin so soft and fair. Was it still as smooth and yielding as it had been five years ago, begging for his touch?

She was sleeping so soundly. What dreams danced behind her eyelids, he wondered.

Was he in them?

Time ticked by, second by agonizing second.

He sat for an hour, watched her for an hour, and for an hour, his thoughts tangled into a chaotic mess.

He raised his hand, glancing at his watch.

It was almost time for him to leave for work.

He retrieved the ointment from the room, then knelt beside Aubrey. He gently shook her shoulder, his voice a soft murmur. “Aubrey, wake up.”

“Hmm?” Aubrey stirred, groggily opening her eyes. When she saw Damon’s handsome face, a soft, sweet smile touched her lips. “You’re back?”

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“Yeah. I’ll put some cream on you, then I have to leave for work. Your food is in the thermos, eat when you’re hungry.” “Okay,” Aubrey murmured, rolling onto her stomach on the sofa, the blanket bunching beneath her.

She rugged the blanket free, and a warmth spread through her chest.

Damon lifted her shirt.

She closed her eyes, sinking deeper into the sofa.

Damon lifted the back of her shirt.

A sudden chill met her warm skin, and she shivered, a faint tremor running through her.

Damon’s voice was exceptionally tender. “It’s a little cold, just bear with me.”

“It’s not cold.” Aubrey felt a comforting warmth spread through her, a wave of pleasantness.

“I saw a box of sweet rice balls on the counter. Who was here?”

“My mom.”

“Hm,” Damon acknowledged.

Silence settled between them again.

The second application of ointment wasn’t as awkward as the first.

After applying the ointment, Damon went into the bathroom to wash his hands.

When he came out, Aubrey was already sitting cross–legged on the sofa, eating from a takeout container.

“Leave it in the kitchen when you’re done, I’ll wash it when I get back,” Damon said, heading for the door.

“My back is injured, not my hands. I can wash a takeout container.”

Damon chuckled softly, put on his shoes, and turned to look at her.“Aubrey.”