10
I almost collapsed, but thankfully my husband caught me in time.
Toop steadied me, tilting my face side to side to check.
My headache throbbed, and I felt suddenly worse, my eyelids fluttering between open and closed.
Then, I was shocked awake, Toop did not let me walk back to the room.
Instead, he shifted to scoop me up in his arms, cradling me like before when he had thrown me into fresh and salty water, and carried me to the warm bed in our room.
“The whole world is spinning,”
I murmured, my eyelids barely staying open.
Was the house spinning, or maybe the entire island?
Before I could get lost in my feverish thoughts, a second layer of warmth covered me.
Peeking, I saw Toop tucking a blanket over me.
“Are you mad at me again?”
My heart ached, trembling in my chest.
My voice sounded small and meek, perhaps because of the fever, though I was not whining—this was my husband, not my mom.
“Did I say I was mad? Just rest.”
Toop dimmed the lights, leaving only a small lamp so I could still see him sitting at the bed.
“You always look so stern at me.”
I wanted to stop talking and just fall asleep, but as I forced myself to turn to look at him leaning against the headboard, my hoarse voice kept spilling out.
I draped my arm over him.
“Anshan.”
“My head hurts. If you don’t like it, push it off. I don’t have the strength to move it myself.”
The only lie was the part about not having the strength—I could lift my arm if I really tried.
But my headache was real, and though lying in this position was not physically comfortable, it brought me peace and warmth to be so close to him.
He did not push me away.
“Suit yourself. Sleep like that if you want.”
I shook my head, which only made my headache worse, but I managed to shift enough to meet his eyes as he looked down at me.
“I feel hot and cold at the same time.”
“That’s because you’re sick.”
“You’re partly to blame for this.”
I was not sure if it was true, but in my fevered state, I rambled on.
“Anshan, you’re delirious.
Just stay here while I go get you some medicine.”
“No.”
I quickly moved to rest my head on his lap.
“I want to stay like this.”
“An.”
“Yes,”
I answered without meeting his gaze.
“My name is Anshan, and every time you call it, my heart races.”
“You’re definitely out of it.”
“I’m sick, remember?”
I did not want to argue, but somehow my mouth always moved faster than my brain.
It was a miracle that a famous actor like Toop Pasutha had not shoved me off his lap by now.
“I’ve had so much fun, Mr. Toop, and I’m really happy that your parents sent us here for this honeymoon. Even though you’re always so stern, we’ve…”
My words trailed off into incoherent mumbling as I grew more drowsy, my voice muffled against his lap.
“An.”
“Pat An’s head.”
I thought I heard him respond with a startled ‘Huh?’ but I was not sure.
’An’ that was funny.
Aside from my parents, only a few people had ever heard me called myself by my own name.
The fever had to have gotten to me, making me speak so freely to my husband—the man I had given so much of myself to.
Thinking that brought sudden tears to my eyes.
“Hic.”
“Anshan.”
I buried my face in his lap, wanting to smack myself for being so overly sensitive.
He was my husband, not my mom, who would console me when I was sick and throwing tantrums.
“My foolish little wife.
Why are you crying?
You’ll just make your headache worse.”
“Mr. Toop.”
Through blurry, tear-filled eyes, I thought I saw a mirage.
Toop leaned closer, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me against his firm chest.
He smiled faintly, a smile that lifted my spirit—like at the waterfall earlier—and his hand brushed the back of my head in a soothing motion.
It felt so comforting, so good.
“Sleep now.”
I nodded, snuggling closer to his chest.
“Mr. Toop.”
He responded by holding me tighter.
“Do you love me yet?”
Even though my consciousness was fading, I knew he did not answer again.
My eyes slowly closed, tears welling up and spilling down my cheeks.
Yet, as I hovered between sleep and wakefulness,
“And you, Anshan, do you love your husband?”
I faintly heard him murmur.
Right.
I had been stubbornly hoping for his love, but what about me?
How did I feel?
I would never have married someone I did not feel anything for.
Initially, I admired and idolized him.
Over time, especially after our days on the island, I grew fond of him despite the tears I had shed.
But did I love him?
In the hazy space of my thoughts, I realized that yes, I would love him—if only my husband loved me back, even just a little.
However, our intimate time together felt fleeting.
By the next morning, I still had a fever.
The boatman arrived to pick us up at just the right moment.
I was too weak to speak or move from the bed, but I could hear Toop grumbling and scolding the boatman.
Then he hoisted me onto his back and carried me to the boat, leaving the island behind.
The island where it was just the two of us, where I had glimpsed a different side of him, and where I had learned to be more of myself.
“Done!”
I stretched and breathed in deeply with a smile as I pushed back from the desk in my workroom.
It had been over a month since we had left the island.
Once we returned to Bangkok, it was clear I had been sick.
I also learned that the entire setup of the deserted island was orchestrated by his parents.
The other side of the island was not uninhabited—there were people living there, including the boatman.
As for the relationship between me and Toop, things had not quite returned to the way they were on the island after I was discharged from the hospital.
Toop’s life in the capital was hectic.
He was on a break from on-screen work, but occasionally had to stop by his company, which was busy as always.
As for me, now that I was more comfortable being myself, I dived fully into what I loved: drawing.
For years, I had been illustrating comics that were moderately popular with a decent following.
Occasionally, I would take on book cover projects.
When I first moved in with Toop, I had paused everything.
We were not financially strained since he had given me a credit card to use.
Did I use it?
Yes, because why not?
But I only used for what I deemed necessary—it was still his money, after all, and our path to love did not seem simple.
Still, some things had changed little by little.
For instance, we no longer slept in separate rooms.
As for intimacy, there had not been anything—he was far too busy.
Meanwhile, I juggled my work with occasional visits to see P’Thian.
This week, I had not gone out much.
I often felt faint and uncomfortable.
Toop, when not busy at his company, was fully booked with modeling shoots for magazine covers and filming a movie.
I had looked up the plot summary and found it fascinating.
In truth, I was interested in all the projects he took on but had never once told him. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
He also had no idea that his work was not just appreciated by my mom.
Toop once accused me of inserting myself into his world, and maybe he was not wrong.
Yes, we were married.
But I had also admired him.
It was why, at my mom’s suggestion, I had applied to be a stuntman on one of his film sets.
Yup, I never aimed to be a lead actor—that was too far-fetched.
I just wanted to be part of the industry alongside Toop Pasutha.
Even though, deep down, I always preferred drawing, fate had taken a twist, leading to me marrying him.
“If I hadn’t joined that film set back then, would we still have ended up married like this?”
I murmured softly, sighing as I sent off the completed work file.
Slowly, I rose from my chair, wary of getting dizzy like I had that morning when I woke up alone.
For nearly the entire week, Toop had only returned home late in the morning, but today it was already noon, and he still had not arrived.
I wanted to suggest visiting a doctor since I was beginning to suspect that the odd symptoms I had been experiencing might mean something significant.
“Who’s at the door?”
But it seemed there was some other issue that required me to go out.
The sound of the doorbell distracted me as I inhaled deeply from my inhaler.
“Hello, Mr. An.”
“Mr. Yai!”
I greeted him with a smile, unlocking the small gate for the neighbor who had moved in next door with his younger sister a month ago.
However, neither he nor his sister knew who I lived with or that the man they sometimes caught a fleeting glimpse of was Toop Pasutha, my husband.
“Am I disturbing you, Mr. An?”
“Not at all.
If there’s anything you or Miss Lek need, please let me know anytime.”
“Mr. An, you’re always so kind.”
I shook my head and laughed at his compliment.
Yai was nearly as tall as Toop.
“You and Miss Lek are the kind ones. The sweets Miss Lek made the other day were unforgettable. I’m still craving them. Next time, I’ll bring over some of my cooking to exchange.”
Yai looked surprised.
“Can you cook, Mr. An?
For me, if Lek didn’t cook, I’d be stuck buying food every day.”
“I can cook a little.
If you don’t mind, I’ll bring some over this evening.”
“I’ll look forward to it.
But for now, could you take this?”
I furrowed my brow as I looked at the item Mr. Yai handed me.
“Lek made this before heading to university.
She asked me to deliver it to you.”
“Wow, egg tarts.
Please thank Miss Lek for me, Mr. Yai.
She’s so talented.”
“Don’t praise her too much, Mr. An.
Ever since we moved in and got to know you, she talks about you every day.
If she hears your compliments, she’ll be making sweets morning and night.”
We both laughed as we talked about his sweet younger sister.
Lek truly was a gifted baker, and I had tasted her treats several times before.
However, as I caught the scent this time,
“Urk.”
“Mr. An!”
I waved a hand to Mr. Yai, who was standing on the other side of the small gate.
I was still holding the bag of egg tarts.
The once-appetizing aroma now made me feel nauseous.
Maybe it was because I had spent the entire morning drawing without eating breakfast nor lunch, but did the symptoms have to be this severe?
“Oh, Mr. An!”
Yai quickly grabbed my arm to steady me as I swayed and nearly fainted.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded, swallowing hard and growing worried about my condition.
Before I could thank him, however, the familiar honk of a car startled me, and I reflexively tightened my grip on his arm.
“Mr. Toop.”