"Don't look at me like that." Cruden's voice lost the warmth and amusement he used to taunt her. He was cold, cruel, and stony. "I'm not a charity case to be pitied, empathized with, coddled, or even comforted."
'I'm not you.' Roselia could finish the sentence for him, even though his face and eyes didn't imply it. Maybe, he didn't even share the same thought as her, but she surely felt it in her heart.
Cruden Tiberias was not as weak and emotional as his wife. He was aloof. Cunning. He was everything that she was not.
'It's not like I aspire to be like you,' Roselia thought. 'But, did he want me to become like him?'
"You shouldn't walk too much," Cruden muttered. "Stay here, I'll bring the kit—"
Roselia was already on her own two feet. She blinked. Besides a stabbing ache in between her thighs, she tried to convince herself that she was fine. The pain was starting to get to her with each ticking second.
