Aunt Rong, emerging from the kitchen bearing a tray of steaming soup, was met with the tableau of two individuals seated at the dining table. Her delight was palpable, expressed through a burst of laughter that seemed to echo within the room. "Young master is back!" Her announcement carried an undercurrent of cheerfulness, a testament to the familiar dynamics that governed the household.
The sudden ending of the conversation on the part of Georgia did not escape Aunt Rong's sharp observation. She approached the table with a quizzical expression, her gaze fixed on Georgia. Her concern manifested in the query, "Young grandma, why aren't you eating?" The term of address, "young grandma," carried an air of familiarity, a title that spoke to the rapport that existed between the two.
Georgia, now affectionately referred to as "little grandma," felt her cheeks blaze with warmth. Her gaze flitted between the man before her and Aunt Rong, an unspoken tension tugging at her heartstrings. Flustered, she offered a feeble explanation, "I'm full, truly."
Seizing the opportunity, she promptly excused herself from the table, rising from her seat and making her way towards the stairs. Yet, before she could ascend even halfway, a voice resonated through the air, punctuating her retreat. "Running away, are you?" The voice was clear, rich, and unmistakably male.
Jack's swift strides quickly bridged the distance between them. In a matter of moments, he stood before her, effectively obstructing her path with a casual lean against the wall. The suddenness of his appearance left her momentarily breathless, her heart's rhythm accelerating in tandem with his proximity.
Caught within the sphere of his presence, Georgia's gaze instinctively rose to meet his, her eyes locking onto the handsome countenance before her. A flutter of emotions—confusion, anticipation, and an elusive tension—melded within her as she took in his nearness. The intentional dip of his head, his lips curling into a suggestive smile, rendered her momentarily bereft of speech.
A provocative question lingered within the air—a question that bore a weight of implications, a question that stirred the currents of desire. His words held a tantalizing edge, a dual meaning that was not lost on her, "Can I eat you?"
The words were as evocative as they were unexpected, causing Georgia's thoughts to scatter like leaves in the wind. For a brief moment, her ability to articulate a coherent response faltered amidst the whirlwind of emotions that swept over her.
Jack's satisfaction was evident as he observed her flustered state. A pleased curve graced his lips as he reached out, his hand brushing gently against hers before capturing it in a secure hold. His intention was clear—to guide her back to the bedroom.
Georgia's voice, tinged with a mixture of confusion and resistance, broke through the silence, "You... What are you doing?" The urgency of her question was laced with a note of skepticism, her mind racing to work out his intentions.
Undeterred by her inquiry, Jack led her with purposeful steps into the bedroom. His demeanor remained composed, a stark contrast to the fluttering of her nerves. The room exuded a quiet calm, the bed inviting in its unassuming grace.
"Sit down," his command was delivered with an air of authority that left no room for refusal. Georgia found herself complying, sinking onto the bed's edge. The uncertainty that had gripped her now manifested as a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
As Jack retrieved a medical box from the cabinet, Georgia's eyes widened with realization. His actions confirmed what her nerves had hinted at—her injury, the fragile mark on her neck, still required tending. Her fingers subconsciously grazed the bandage that concealed the wound, a reminder of the events that had led to this moment.
His movements were deft, his actions purposeful as he extracted the necessary supplies—a roll of gauze, a vial of liquid medicine. Georgia watched in silence as he began the process of unwrapping the bandage, the quietude punctuated by the soft sounds of his actions.
The pain that had dulled in the wake of the injury's initial impact seemed to reawaken as the bandage was removed, tendrils of discomfort spreading through her neck. Her lips pressed together in an attempt to suppress any sign of distress, her gaze fixed upon Jack's steady hands.
Amidst the gentle administrations of gauze and medicine, the atmosphere within the room took on a weight that transcended the physical realm. Georgia's gaze lifted to meet his, her heart stirred by the earnestness that radiated from him.
His actions held a tenderness that resonated within her, a tenderness that seemed to surpass the façade of cold detachment he often projected. This revelation was both unexpected and touching, her heart responding in kind.
As the task was completed, he gathered his tools and set them aside. The aura of intimacy that had permeated the space seemed to linger, a reminder of the vulnerability they had shared. His final words were both a command and a reassurance, "Change the gauze frequently. It's better not to leave scars in this position."
Georgia nodded, her voice soft yet laden with gratitude, "Thank you."
His gaze bore into hers, an intensity that seemed to pierce through her thoughts. The atmosphere seemed to shimmer with unspoken words, emotions that hovered between them.
In the stillness that followed, Jack's expression shifted, his countenance adopting a subtle change. His voice, when it came, was a blend of sincerity and determination, "You just stay at home these days and don't have to rush to work."
Her brows furrowed in puzzlement, curiosity spurring her to inquire further, "Then..." Her words hung, suspended in the air as she navigated the unspoken question.
His response was candid, a revelation that peeled back the layers of intrigue, "I arranged it." The revelation held implications that stretched beyond the surface, reflecting a deeper layer of thoughtfulness on his part.
Georgia's eyes widened in surprise, her mind racing to grasp the implications of his words. His exception to the company's promotion system spoke volumes, offering a glimpse into the significance he assigned to her well-being and her place within his life.
"Why?" Her inquiry carried a note of curiosity, an eagerness to understand the motivations that had driven his actions. The promotion was not merely a professional milestone—it represented a gesture that transcended the realm of business.
In the moment that followed, Jack's gaze bore into hers, his eyes a reflection of his earnestness. His words, when they came, resonated with sincerity and an undercurrent of vulnerability, "Don't you forget that you are my wife, and you deserve better."
The weight of his words settled over her, an acknowledgment that transcended their professional roles. It was a statement that held implications beyond the immediate, a recognition of their connection that extended beyond the boundaries of convention.
Before she could formulate a response, he turned away, his steps leading him out of the room. Georgia was left to grapple with the myriad of emotions his words had stirred within her.
As the door closed behind him, she found herself alone, her thoughts swirling in a maelstrom of introspection. His words lingered, a reminder of the intricacies that had woven their lives together—an intricacy that seemed to mirror the enigmatic layers of their unfolding story.