HIS REGRET (Ex-Husband wants Me Back) novel Chapter 335

**Shadows of the Past – By Emma Clarke**

**Chapter 335**

“Cale… you really don’t have to be here,” Lydia’s voice emerged, muffled and weak, from beneath the layers of her blanket. Her words were barely a whisper, a fragile sound that barely carried through the room. “It’s just a mild fever.”

Cale shook his head, his expression serious as he scrutinized her flushed cheeks and the way her body trembled slightly beneath the covers. “A mild fever doesn’t make you shake like that,” he countered, his brow knitted in concern. “Your temperature’s nearly a hundred and four.”

“That’s none of your business,” she shot back, a hint of defiance in her tone, though it was tempered by her fatigue.

“It is now,” he replied, his voice steady and unwavering.

Lydia shot him a weak, almost pleading look, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. “I didn’t ask you to come.”

“And I didn’t ask for your permission to show up,” he retorted, a hint of stubbornness lacing his words.

“Cale—”

“Lydia,” he interrupted, his tone calm yet resolute. “Stop arguing. You’re in no condition to win this.”

With a slow exhale, she closed her eyes, feeling the weight of her eyelids. “You really love bossing people around, don’t you?”

“Only the stubborn ones,” he replied, a trace of amusement flickering in his eyes.

“And you think that’s funny?”

“No,” he admitted, a small smile breaking through his serious demeanor. “But I do enjoy it.”

Lydia sighed deeply, allowing herself to sink back into the pillow. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Good. I don’t have a license for that anyway,” he quipped, his voice lightening the mood just a fraction.

“Then why are you still here?” she asked, her curiosity piqued despite her irritation.

Cale pulled a chair closer, the creaking wood breaking the stillness of the room as he settled beside her bed. “Because I can’t leave you alone,” he stated simply, the sincerity in his voice making her heart flutter unexpectedly.

Lydia opened her eyes, locking onto his gaze for a long moment, searching for any hint of insincerity. “You know I hate being pitied.”

“I don’t pity you,” he replied softly, his voice almost a whisper. “I’m worried.”

An uncomfortable silence enveloped them, punctuated only by the gentle patter of rain against the window. It was a soothing sound, yet it only amplified the tension that hung in the air.

“How long do you plan on sitting there?” Lydia finally broke the silence, her tone laced with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.

“Until you fall asleep,” he answered, his resolve unshaken.

“I can’t sleep with you staring like that.”

“Then I’ll keep staring until you get used to it,” he replied, his tone teasing yet earnest.

Her brows knitted together in frustration. “You’re impossible.”

“I know,” he said with a self-aware smirk.

Cale stood up, moving with purpose as he grabbed a damp towel from the bedside table. He returned, gently pressing it to her forehead with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with his usual bluntness. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as if he feared breaking something fragile.

“You need to take your medicine,” he said quietly, his gaze unwavering.

“I already did,” she protested weakly.

“The one I left on the kitchen counter?”

Lydia fell silent, the truth of his words hanging heavily in the air.

“So, no,” he sighed, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice. “You can’t even be honest when you’re sick.”

“I didn’t want to trouble you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, laden with guilt.

“You’ve been trouble since the day we met,” he said with a faint smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But somehow, I’ve never minded.”

Lydia’s gaze softened as she looked at him, and for the first time, something shifted in her expression—not anger, not irritation, but a flicker of warmth that made her heart race.

“I’m not even talking,” he protested, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Your thoughts are,” she replied, her tone matter-of-fact.

Cale chuckled softly, the sound warm and comforting. “You’re delirious from the fever.”

“No,” she murmured, her voice thoughtful. “I just know when your head’s too full.”

Cale paused, the weight of her words settling around them. After a moment, he replied in a low voice, “Because lately, you’re the only thing that makes me feel like I matter.”

Lydia froze, her heart racing as heat flooded her cheeks—not from the fever this time, but from the intensity of his confession. “Don’t say things like that,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

“I mean it,” he insisted, his gaze unwavering.

“That’s exactly the problem,” she countered, her heart aching at the vulnerability in his words.

Cale studied her, the silence stretching between them as he contemplated his next move. Finally, he stood, adjusting her pillow with care before gently pulling the blanket up to her chin. “Get some sleep. We can argue again tomorrow.”

“You sure you’ll come back tomorrow?” she asked, a hint of uncertainty lacing her voice.

“If I don’t, you’ll end up calling me,” he replied, a playful smirk on his lips.

Lydia smiled faintly, allowing her eyes to flutter closed. “Don’t be so sure of yourself.”

“Too late,” he said, his voice light with humor.

A few moments passed, and soon her breathing steadied, soft and even, as sleep finally claimed her. Cale remained seated beside her, his gaze fixed on her peaceful face. There was exhaustion etched into her features, but also a serene calmness that he hadn’t seen in her before.

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a whisper, “You don’t need to know this, but I’m really grateful I met you, Lydia.”

Outside, the rain continued to fall softly into the night, each drop a soothing rhythm that matched the steady beat of his heart.

And for the first time, Cale realized—maybe he had stopped merely caring.

Maybe he was starting to love her.