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Stanley lowered his head to look.
I can't deny her talent in nursing. Not only has she wrapped the bandage neatly, but she
has also tied it with a beautiful knot.
“Not bad.” He nodded in approval.
His words triggered a sigh of relief from Joyce, who then broke into a smile. “I'm glad to
hear that.”
Her concerns were subsequently eased, for she had been afraid that he would tear the
bandage off in dissatisfaction and order her to redo it.
Fortunately, the matter concluded in the best possible way—he was reasonable in the end.
“All right, feed me the stew now.” As Stanley put down his hand, his gaze fell upon the
bowl on the bedside table.
His words came as a shock. “Feed you... stew?”
She thought that she had heard wrong and couldn't believe her ears.
Stanley proceeded to repeat himself, “Of course. Do you think I can hold the bowl of soup
after you scalded my hand?”
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He raised his bandaged left hand as he spoke, causing Joyce to stare at it in silence.
After putting it down, Stanley urged her, “What are you spacing out for? Hurry up before it
gets cold.”
“Okay.” Joyce resigned herself to fate. Upon taking a deep breath, she took a spoonful of
the soup and brought it up to his mouth.
As this was the first time she ever fed him, she was extremely nervous on top of not being
used to it. Consequently, her hand couldn't help but tremble.
Her shaking hand sparked a gleam in Stanley's eyes. “Aren't you worried you'll spill the hot
soup onto me again?”
With a drastic change in expression, Joyce frantically put the spoon back into the bowl and
apologized, “I'm sorry.”
She just couldn't control her emotions, and her hands would shake every time she grew
nervous.
As a result, she was in no condition to feed him soup. Yet he was unable to drink it himself.
What should I do now?
Weighed down by her dilemma, Joyce lowered her head.
Stanley, well-versed in psychology, let out a sigh after reading her mind. “Fine, you can
leave now. I'll drink it by myself.”
“How are you going to do that?” Joyce gave him a look of surprise.
Stanley flatly replied, “I can manage with one hand. I'm not going to let myself starve to
death just because you're nervous.”
“I-I'm sorry.” Joyce blushed as she hung her head.
I didn't do it on purpose. I just can't help myself.
Stanley waved with his good hand. “Enough, there's no need to apologize. You can leave
now.”
“Will you really be fine on your own?” Joyce remained concerned as she stood by his
bedside.
A mocking look flashed across Stanley's face. “Are you going to feed me if I can't? Can you
stop your hand from trembling?”
“I...”
Joyce was at a loss for words again.
Finally, Stanley sighed in resignation before asking, “Joyce, am I a monster?”
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The sudden question baffled Joyce. “W-What do you mean?”
“I asked you if I looked like a monster to you?” Stanley stared at her.
Instead of answering her question, he repeated his own.
Joyce responded with a shake of her head. “No, you're human.”
He's clearly a man. How can he be a monster?
“In that case, why are you so afraid of me?” Stanley probed as he peered straight into her
eyes.
Joyce's lips parted but no words came out.
“I...”
There was no way she was going to tell him that even though he wasn't a monster, the
terror he made her feel made him no different from one.
When he saw Joyce hanging her head again to avoid answering, a sense of exhaustion
descended upon Stanley.
“Forget it. You can leave now.” He gestured to dismiss her again.
He was cognizant of the fear she had for him, which was a result of his actions in the past.
Although she could no longer remember the incident, her subconscious mind didn't forget.
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