Rufus wedged his foot in the door and pushed it open.
“Why didn’t you eat today? You’re still recovering, and it’s important that you eat on time.”
Seeing that he acted as if nothing had happened, my angry act became real.
“You deceitful liar! Why did you cover your scent? If I had known you were outside, I wouldn’t have opened the door!”
Rufus didn’t say anything.
Instead, he simply signaled at the doctor to leave.
After the door was closed, he turned around and squatted down so that we were on the same eye level.
“I just want to help you with the rehabilitation, Crystal.”
“You’re not a doctor. What if I become permanently disabled because of you?”
I glared at him angrily and slapped his hand away from the wheelchair.
Then I wheeled myself to the small table, grabbed an apple, and took a loud bite.
Indeed, I had been starving all day long.
If it weren’t for Rufus, things wouldn’t have come to this! Rufus walked over and took the apple away from me.
“Let me peel it first.” I snorted and turned my head away.
“I don’t want you. I want a proper doctor.”
Rufus pulled a long face and pinched my chin, forcing me to look up at him.
“Do you really think I’d let anyone else touch you?”
Indeed, I had been starving all day long.
Crystal’s POV
I choked, words stuck in my throat like stubborn pebbles.
My determination, however, was evident as I propelled myself forward in the wheelchair.
“I don’t want you!”
Rufus’ strong grip rendered my efforts futile; the wheelchair squeaked as it jostled restlessly in place.
My frustration boiled over, and I grabbed his pristine sleeve, crumpling it in my anger. He tenderly caressed my head, trying to pacify me.
“Don’t be upset,” he soothed, his dulcet tones low and soft.
I turned my head away, a disdainful snort escaping my lips.
“Tell me, what the hell do you want?”
I demanded, my voice laced with unbridled contempt.
To my surprise, Rufus lifted me from the wheelchair with ease, treating me as if I were a mere child.
Caught unawares, I grasped his shoulder tightly, consumed by a mix of shame and fury swirling viciously in my chest.
“Put me down! What the hell do you want?”
I seethed.
Rufus, however, appeared unfazed by my ire, tender concern etched on his face. He spoke in hushed tones as if coaxing a child.
“Calm down. You’re still weak. Save your strength.”
Enraged, I had an overwhelming urge to ruffle his hair.
Rufus proceeded to effortlessly carry me toward the desk.
I writhed in his hold, insisting, “Put me down. I can walk by myself.”
Surprisingly, Rufus complied with my request, releasing his grip and allowing me to stand unaided, though he still clasped my arm with a single hand.
My legs trembled with weakness, unable to sustain my weight.
I cast a grudging glance toward the wheelchair, longing to take a seat.
Rufus’ towering figure blocked my line of vision.
Resolutely, he declared, “You need rehabilitation.”
I muttered unhappily.
But his intentions were genuinely aimed at my recovery, so I relented.
“Well, don’t let me go,”
I warned, my fear of falling ringing in my voice.
Rufus replied unflinchingly, “No, I’m going to release you.”
He loosened his hold and I began to slip out of his grasp.
I jolted, scrambling to wrap my hands around his neck.
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