Chapter 570
Anneliese’s patience finally detonated.
Her eyes flew open as she hissed, “Are you done p>
Jonathan didn’t flinch-if anything, his brows lifted with theatrical innocence. “Honey, I’m freezing p>
She nearly laughed from disbelief. “I left you a whole blanket. Right there. For you p>
He blinked at her, genuinely-or very professionally-confused. “A blanket? I must have missed it p>
A deep, murderous silence followed. He honestly expected me to swallow that lie? He’d thrown the thing into exile himself, and the evidence was literally lying on the floor like a crime scene exhibit.
Yet, he delivered that nonsense with the ease of a man reciting the weather forecast. “Make room,” he murmured, not requesting permission so much as announcing an invasion.
Before she could tighten her defensive cocoon, he slid close, pressing a chilled jaw into the warm curve of her neck.
Anneliese didn’t speak. She just buried herself deeper in the quilt, a silent riot of defiance.
He ignored it entirely. Instead, he upped the assault, gently biting the tip of her nose as though marking territory. “Come on, honey. I don’t share a bed with my wife and then sleep under different blankets like we’re strangers p>
She almost yelped. At this rate, he was going to leave a set of dental evidence right on her face. Tomorrow she’d show up in front of Nishay with suspicious bite marks, and the old woman would absolutely combust.
And Anneliese was tired-too tired to keep fighting. Exhaustion and self- preservation teamed up, and eventually she surrendered, loosening the cocoon she’d been clinging to.
“Such a well-behaved little treasure.” His voice curled with satisfaction before it ever reached a smile. A quick kiss landed on her mouth, nothing demanding—just a claim stamped in passing-then he peeled open the covers and slipped straight into the soft warmth that still smelled like her.
Warm sheets, her scent, her body close enough to touch. That, apparently, was all the triumph he needed. With the lights cut to darkness, he settled down without trying to conquer new territory, his palm landing on her back in slow, lulling strokes.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured. “Rest p>
Anneliese obeyed in appearance only. Her lashes lowered, but her whole body stayed tight, every muscle wired awake.
Jonathan sensed it instantly. The stiffness, the way she braced like she might bolt if she could. His hand slid down until he caught one of hers, folding her fingers into his warm grip, his thumb stroking gently as if coaxing memories out of her skin.
His voice dropped low in the dark. “So… there’s truly nothing left in that head of yours about me?” His words didn’t come out angry, but they dragged a bruised ego behind them. He wasn’t exactly wallpaper, after all.
Back then, Anneliese had already been old enough to keep memories instead of letting them evaporate. Children at ten didn’t live with blank minds, and they’d crossed paths more than once. Yet she stared at him now like he was a stranger pulled from a crowd.
Meanwhile, he had carried the memory of her like a stubborn splinter-small, sharp, unforgettable. The disbelief in his tone bled into something almost sulky, a grown man quietly nursing a bruise no one else could see.
In the darkness, she couldn’t read his expression. There was a calm, familiar warmth drifting off his skin, a reassuring scent that settled over her nerves.
Her muscles uncoiled little by little. “When the funeral ended, I got sick. A long fever. After that… the whole period turned foggy. Like someone wiped the film in my head p>
The explanation hit Jonathan not like a revelation but like a punch to the gut. Ahis confusion about why she never recognized him, all that faint sting of being forgotten- Crumbled instantly exposed for how small and petty it was compared to what she’d been surviving.
She was just a little girl back then, and life had already shoved grief too heavy into
her hands. A fever was not just an illness—it was her mind slamming every door shut at once, shoving the memories into darkness so she wouldn’t collapse beneath them.
Her body stepped in where no one could shield her.
The realization scraped him raw. Whatever tenderness he had for her before—it warped into something thicker, almost painful, like affection that had been wrung too tightly.
“I’m sorry… I should’ve held on more back then.” His chin brushed gently against
the crown of her head, a soft, grounding touch.
“Held on… to what?” Her voice was hesitant, unsure.
He leaned closer, lips brushing her temple in a gentle kiss. “I should have insisted
you come with me… to live with my family p>
He could see her in his mind’s
eye-fevered, fragile, adrift in a world that had suddenly turned cruel. Her grandmother, crushed by grief and worn by illness, had likely been unable to care for her property. Perhaps the little girl had been the one bending over backward trying to tend to someone who should have been tending to her.
But at that time, he had already returned to Halden, oblivious to her fever and suffering. If only he had lingered a little longer in
Baytree-even for a few extra days. Even if fate still prevented him from the very least
bringing her home, a
he could have softened the blow,
offering a small measure of comfort
in those dark hours.
Anneliese paused, the memory of that princess room beside his bedroom in Fullbuster Residence surfacing unbidden.
She hesitated, then asked softly, “You… You actually prepared a room for me?” His words from before hinted at a plan—he had meant to bring me to Fullbuster Residence back then?
Jonathan’s brows drew together. Gently, he loosened his arms around her, lowering his gaze to meet hers with quiet intensity.
“I had gone to Grandpa back then, asking him to bring you home to live with me. He had agreed. Frederick’s superior even came with him and me to deliver the request but you refused p>
Nishay had stormed in, scattering the gifts they brought, shooing everyone out with
a fierce hand and sharp words. Yet now, seeing Anneliese’s blank expression, it was clear she had no memory of any of it.
Her eyes clouded with confusion. She shook her head slowly. “I… I don’t remember.” Perhaps the fever had erased it all.
Jonathan’s voice turned low, sharp with a mixture of hurt and resignation. “Of course. You’d rather cling to those who flattered and deceived you since childhood —pretending to care, playing the part of devoted companions—than remember me. “Me, the one who never stopped caring, worrying, and keeping you in my heart all this time p>