"Ethan's point of view,"
"Why are you saying thank you to me, Mr. Woods?" She asked in a perplexed tone.
"Because you thanked me," she hasn't informed me about.
"Do you respond with thank you when someone says thank you?" She questioned in a grating manner.
"I do not do it."
"Then, why did you thank me?"
Oh my God, what's the big deal if I say thank you to this girl? Did I ask her why since she had already thanked me?
This girl always notices the smallest details of what I do and then nags me with questions.
This time, I won't respond to any of her inquiries since, despite my objections, she has ultimately chosen to collaborate with Mr. Chang. I'm furious with this obstinate girl.
Oh, really?
Obviously, yes.
But why are you making such an effort to prevent her body from being buried beneath the cabinet if you are mad at her? My subconscious was making inquiries because she prevented my head from striking the corner of the table by using her hand.
I'm not as self-centered as she imagines.
Well, are you hiding something from me, or is this the sole justification? My subconscious was making inquiries.
Of course, this is the only reason I would have thanked her; otherwise, I have no interest in communicating with such a defiant young lady.
"Mr. Woods, and Mrs. Woods, are you both all right?" Steve got up from his seat as soon as the plane stopped moving and moved toward us.
The plane stopped moving. The plane was littered with items.
"I'm alright;" he just moved the side table away from my feet.
My legs had been under pressure for such a long time that I was unable to move them at all.
"Will you hold my waist like this the entire day, Mr. Woods?
Remove your hands from my waste." Stella spoke in a grating manner.
How do I let her know that my feet are stuck? Even leaving my spot is impossible. But hold on, why do I still have her waist in my arms when just my feet are trapped and my hands are perfectly fine?
Yet, I don't feel like releasing my grip on her waist. I wish she would lie on top of me like this so I could watch the glimmer in her hazel eyes.
She tried to get her hand out from under my head and said, "Mr. Woods, leave me."
Oh no, what the hell am I thinking? What must Steve be thinking, seeing me like this?
I am with my wife, so what could be Steve's issue with this? Since when did I start caring about other people's opinions?
She started vigorously shaking her hand as soon as I lifted my head slightly over her palm.
"Mrs. Woods, are you all right?" Steve looked at Stella and asked in a frightened manner.
"Stella, what happened to you?" I made an effort to raise my body off the plane's floor.
"Oh no, Mrs. Woods' hands are bleeding, Mr. Woods," Steve uttered in a terrified tone.
"What?" I jumped to my feet in shock after hearing his comments.
"Steve brings the first-aid kit after finding it quickly," I said while clutching Stella's palm in a panic.
"Stella, if you were in such pain, you ought to have taken your hand out from under my head." The sight of her bloody palm made me feel terrible as if I were only responsible for her suffering.
"Mr. Woods, if I had removed my hand from the table at that point, your head's blood would have started to flow instead of mine." Looking at my head, she remarked.
She was doing her best to mask her anguish by keeping a grin on her face, but I could tell from the blood running from her palm that she had a severe incision there.
"Stella, did you hurt your hand protecting my head from harm because you cared so much about me?" Stella hurt herself to save me, which I find hard to accept.
"You also protected me from getting buried under the side table, Mr. Woods. She spoke softly."
"What? Are you aware of this?" I was shocked as I stared at her. Her face was concealed in the crook of my neck, and I don't know how she knew that I had used my legs to prevent the side table from collapsing on her.
Does the rear of her head also have two eyes?
There is a chance. My male ego answered with an angry tone.
What have I done that my inflated sense of self is becoming enraged without cause?
What is it about Stella Parker that makes you willing to overlook your decades-old loathing for girls?
Ah, so my masculine ego is furious with me because I'm caring about Stella.
If you detest girls, then why do you care about her so much?
Well, I see it now.
"Show me your hand, Mrs. Woods, and I'll apply ointment to your wound." Hearing Steve's comments cut off the internal debate I was having.
Stella is my wife, and I alone have the authority to tie a bandage on her wrist, so why would he do that?
"Give me the first aid kit, Steve, and I'll bandage Mrs. Woods' hand." I extended my hand to Steve.
"What?
Are you sure, Mr. Woods?" Steve asked in a perplexed tone.
"Of course, so why are you staring at me so perplexedly?" I grabbed the first-aid kit out of his grasp."Nothing, Mr. Woods." He adjusted his spectacles and prepared to leave."Mrs. Woods, you are indeed extremely fortunate." Before leaving the room, he gave us one more look."What do you mean?" Stella puzzledly regarded him.
"Mrs. Woods, nothing, take care of yourself."
He made an effort to conceal his smile. But, just by looking at his expression, I could tell exactly what he was trying to say.
Yet after seeing Stella, I can not figure out from the look on his face why he is blushing.
He likes Stella, right?
If this happens, I have to inform him that Stella is my wife and that he is not permitted to see her in this way. Because she is my wife, nobody can see her in this way.
"Give me the first aid kit, Mr. Woods; I'll bandage my hand by myself." I awoke from my dream when Stella's words caught my attention.
"Not at all; I'll bandage your hand," I said this while still holding her hand.
"Why?" I got the impression from the way she was looking at my face that she was attempting to read something from it.
But how do I respond to her query now? Even now, I'm not sure why I care so much for her. I'm suddenly getting possessive of her. I become irate whenever she speaks to someone other than me. I was feeling upset even as she was speaking to Steve.
Since she entered my life, I have been experiencing brand-new, unidentified emotions that I am unable to even comprehend.
She makes me act weird whenever I'm around her, so I have to keep a safe distance lest she fully transforms me. My feelings of jealousy have grown so strong as a result of this obstinate girl that I have begun to feel jealous of my P.A.
I'm being possessive of Stella Parker without wanting to. I am now beginning to care about her as well. I'm using cotton to clean the wound as though it were in my hand rather than hers. I feel like someone is sticking a needle in my heart whenever I see even a single pain-related wrinkle on her forehead.
"You didn't respond to my inquiry, Mr. Woods." She continued to study my face for the response to her question.
What should I say in response to her query now that I still don't fully comprehend the emotions that are developing inside of me?