In Love, Never Say Never (Ashton Fuller and Scarlett Stovall)

He's mad?

I was not sure what he was mad about. I just found it odd.

That night, Ashton did not return to the bedroom, probably because of the medication.

Although I was injured, I managed to fall into a deep sleep that night. Amid the daze, I could have sworn I sensed someone standing by my bed.

But I was practically dead to the world. My eyes were sealed shut.

The next day.

I was awakened by a cool feeling on my elbow, and when I opened my eyes Jared was changing my dressing.

Startled, I instinctively opened my mouth to speak, "Dr. Crest, did Ashton call you to come here?"

He nodded, his eyes focused on applying medicine for me.

Mrs. Eriksen came up with breakfast for the day. "Letty, Mr. Ashton has gone out for work. He wants you to eat your fill and rest at home!" she informed me.

I nodded, alarmed, and turned to ask Jared, "Is it busy at the company lately? So busy that they have to work overtime on weekends?"

He raised his eyes and looked at me, brows arched. "Not really."

I glanced back at Mrs. Eriksen and, after a pause, said, "Was he in the study the whole night?"

To which she answered, "When I went to check in the morning, I saw Mr. Ashton exit the study. I'm not sure if he was there all night though."

This did not seem right. I had a feeling Ashton might have been mad, but I had no clue what or who he was mad at.

After treating my wound, Jared looked towards me and said, "For the next few days, I advise you to stay in bed, don't go walking around, don't come into contact with water, and stay away from vigorous exercises too."

I nodded at him. "Did Ashton sound angry when he called you this morning?"

He knitted his brows and said nothing. Then, he packed up the first aid kit and left without a word!

What just happened?

The day went by.

In the evening, Ashton did not come home until after dinner. His face was pale. I took the initiative to talk to him, "Mrs. Eriksen has a wonderful meal prepared just for you."

He merely peered at me, his expression a cold one. "I've taken my dinner!"

He's still mad?

Then he stormed up the stairs and entered the study, leaving me completely baffled.

"Letty, do you mind taking this up to him? Mr. Ashton doesn't look very good. Maybe he's dealing with a lot of issues at work. You two should have a good chat as husband and wife. Life's like that. You're happy one day and then sad on another. Marriage is all about communication."

Mrs. Eriksen spoke. Then she handed me the tray of home-cooked food she had prepared. They were all Ashton's everyday favorites.

At the entrance to his study.

I knocked a few times on the door and, after some time, when no one came to answer it, pushed it open and entered the room.

The study was barely lit. A strong smell of tobacco drifted in the air when I stepped in.

"Ashton?"

I turned on the lights to find Ashton leaning back on his chair next to the European-style desk, his eyes shut tight. The gloom on his face signaled that he would not tolerate disturbances at that time.

I placed the tray of food on the desk, and whispered to him, "Ashton, Mrs. Eriksen's prepared some of your favorite food. Please try some."

His eyes were closed so I could not get a good read of his emotions but, judging by the chill in the study, it seemed pretty clear that he was still bristling with anger.

The second I noticed the screen on his computer, I was stunned. It was a video of my car accident in the city center the day before.

Why is he watching this?

"Uncle Louis says we're expected at the Stovall residence next Monday to go over the family registry. You've been busy recently, so maybe I..."

"Scarlett!" Ashton interrupted me. His eyelids snapped open, revealing a pair of bloodshot eyes.

"Do you love him?" He said, his voice low and stern. He turned in his chair, his dark eyes fixed on me. "You managed to spot him in a sea of people, and then you went after him with little regard for your life. Is it because you can't get over him?"

The way he spoke was extraordinarily calm and ironic. I froze on the spot, having understood the reason behind his fury.

I leveled my gaze at him and ultimately chose not to evade the question, so I said, "It's not what you think. He's just an ordinary friend. But even so, if I chanced upon his lookalike on the streets, I would want to find out more about that person, just to assure myself. After all, I owed him my life."

He rose and slowly made his way towards me. His voice was low and deep as he enveloped me with his coldness. "What do you mean it's not what I think? Are you saying you know what's on my mind?"

I pursed my lips and subconsciously stepped back. When I hit the cold wall behind me, I realized I was cornered.

"Ashton, are you angry because I can't get over him, or are you mad because you believe I shouldn't get upset over a dead person?"

He sneered. "What do you think?"

I pursed my lips. I, for one, knew that this man was extremely possessive and domineering. After a pause, I said, "Whichever it is, Marcus is dead. That's an undeniable fact, isn't it?" "What if he isn't?" he countered, his eyes darkened even more. "If he's alive, would you still want to repay his life-saving grace by offering your affection?"

I frowned, finding his argument awfully stubborn. Suppressing my emotions, I put my foot down and replied, "No ifs, and that's final!"

From the way I see it, Marcus was already gone. Only guilt and regret remained.

Ashton's overreaction undoubtedly meant he could not bring himself to accept that the regrets I had for Marcus would increase little by little over time.

He gazed at me, his dark eyes as deep as the sea. A long while later, he tugged his dry lips. Then, his slender and tall figure fell back onto the chair.