The Love I Begged For Was Never Real novel Chapter 321

For a fleeting moment, she even deluded herself into thinking he remembered her too.

But in the end, her remaining sanity crashed down like a bucket of ice water, brutally extinguishing all her impulses and locking the words securely in her throat.

Nora closed her eyes bitterly in the darkness.

How could she speak up?

How did she dare?

Because she vividly remembered the look in Gideon's eyes when he mentioned St. Jude's and Giselle.

Those typically ruthless eyes had been flooded with a profound, unshakable tenderness and bottomless pity.

That exclusive devotion belonged entirely to Giselle; it was an absolute presence that no one could shake or replace. He had poured every ounce of his softness, patience, and the gratitude of being saved in his darkest hour into the little girl who had arrived long after Nora.

She knew exactly why he had told her those things tonight.

He had merely noticed her guilt and terror at the sight of his massive scars. He used his past to comfort her, proving that the wounds were nothing to him, that he was used to the pain, and that he didn't need her tears.

Gideon was always like this. Even his method of comforting someone reeked of arrogant logic and cold calculation.

But how could she simply accept this crushing debt, one paid for in blood and near-death?

He had shielded her from the lethal falling rocks, earning a back completely shredded with horrifying wounds, yet here he was, taking the time to coddle her emotions.

The heavier this favor became, the more the moral shackles crushed her spine, making it agonizing just to take a normal breath.

Nora lay stiffly in Gideon's embrace, listening to the steady, even rhythm of his breathing.

Giselle probably had, though.

Back in the corner of St. Jude's, in that desperate moment when he couldn't find his home or his way back, the little girl crying for her parents must have seen him at his absolute weakest and most helpless.

That was why he gave her every ounce of his warmth and made her his only exception.

And Nora figured she would never experience any of that for the rest of her life.

Staring at the sycamore branches swaying violently outside the window, Nora's thoughts sank deeper and deeper into an abyss.

What exactly were his feelings for her?

If he had zero romantic interest in her, and if every single action was purely driven by family honor and obligation, then what did his current behavior mean?