The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 419

The bathroom door was ajar, and billows of white steam rushed out.

Clara stood motionless at the entrance.

The last time, when she had treated the wound on his arm, Simon had ultimately taken over to hold him down. Clara had deliberately avoided looking too closely.

Back then, her mind was filled with irritation at how he had disrupted her peaceful life. She felt he'd brought it on himself, that it was his own fault for being a hero, for getting caught in the rain and suffering for it.

But seeing these scars again today, through a dissipating layer of steam, her feelings were completely different.

Clara walked in and shut the door behind her.

Hearing her footsteps approach, Rhys's body grew even more rigid.

He remembered the day they divorced, how Clara had looked him in the eye and said she had only pursued him for his good looks, a simple physical attraction.

He had never thought the scars on his body were anything to be ashamed of.

But in front of Clara, they had become his deepest source of insecurity.

He knew how ugly he looked now, too ugly to live up to her past judgment. He didn't dare to see the look in her eyes as she surveyed him, afraid of finding disgust and revulsion.

The towel draped over him was soaked. He clutched it tightly, trying to hide himself, his other hand still braced against the wall, his head bowed low.

"I told you to get out," he said, his voice hoarse and breathless.

His command no longer held the pleading tone from before, only shame.

Clara ignored his warning and walked up behind him.

The hot water from the shower was still pouring down, splashing against the tiles and quickly soaking Clara's clothes.

She reached past him and turned off the shower. The sound of water stopped abruptly.

The only sounds left in the bathroom were their ragged breaths.

Clara looked at his soaking wet hair. Water trickled down his neck and disappeared under the towel.

Her eyes grew hot, and her sinuses burned. She gritted her teeth and started tugging at the towel in his hand.

Rhys pulled back slightly, his grip strong.

"Turn around," Clara said again.

Rhys hesitated, then slowly turned to face her.

There were fewer scars on his front than his back, but several obvious ones still marred his chest and abdomen.

Water dripped from the ends of his hair into his eyes, forcing him to squint.

Seeing the wedding ring on the necklace he wore even in the shower, Clara said nothing. But with no outlet for the emotions churning inside her, she took the damp towel in her hands, wrapped it around his head, and began to roughly rub his face.

It was rough, each movement harder than the last.

Her actions weren't gentle; they were a complete release of her pent-up feelings.

Rhys let her do as she pleased, watching her quietly. Miraculously, the tightness in his chest began to dissipate.

When Clara's movements slowed, he carefully touched the corner of her eye and coaxed her softly,

"It's okay. They've all healed. It stopped hurting a long time ago."