My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage - Chapter 230

Chapter 230:

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She turned around to see Kristopher standing there, a key in hand, staring at her.

Caught off guard and half-dressed, Carrie hastily pulled on her pajamas.

Her back was smooth and graceful, her waist slender and delicate, with firm, curved hips.

Kristopher didn’t respond immediately.

Instead, his eyes scanned her exposed back, noting the red marks scattered across her delicate skin.

His jaw tightened as anger and guilt welled up inside him.

Those marks were evidence of the suffering she had endured—suffering he hadn’t been able to prevent.

“Why didn’t you make any noise before coming in?” she asked in an accusatory tone.

Without a word, he approached her and gently pulled her to sit on the bed.

“What do you want now?” Carrie asked impatiently, her tone irritated. “I’m really tired and just want to sleep.” She collapsed onto the bed, exhaustion overwhelming her.

Kristopher sighed softly, his gaze softening with a mix of helplessness and affection.

He reached out to adjust her disheveled clothes, but the moment his fingers brushed the fabric, Carrie grabbed his hand tightly.

Her eyes flashed with anger. “Are all men just controlled by hormones? Is your mind filled with nothing but indecent thoughts? Look at my state! Do you want to push me into PTSD to satiate your desire?”

Stunned by her outburst, Kristopher withdrew his other hand from the bedside drawer and pulled out a first aid kit. “I’m only here to help you apply ointment, not whatever you’re imagining.” He took out some iodine from the kit, grumbling, “You’re such an ingrate.”

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Carrie froze, realization dawning on her face.

Flustered, she grabbed the oversized custom-made bunny from the bed and buried her face in it, avoiding his gaze.

“Do you know what you look like right now?” Kristopher chuckled softly, dipping a cotton swab in iodine and dabbing her wounds.

Carrie didn’t respond, her head still buried in the plush toy.

He continued, his voice laced with teasing amusement, “When an ostrich encounters danger, it buries its head in the sand, thinking it’s invisible to the threat.”

Carrie turned her head slightly, her tone defensive. “That’s nonsense! Ostriches bury their heads in the sand to aid digestion and incubation, not to hide!”

“Oh, is that so, little ostrich?” Kristopher teased, his tone playful.

He was implying that she was like an ostrich. Carrie’s cheeks flushed.

She turned to hit him but accidentally bumped her injured arm against the first aid kit.

She winced in pain, drawing a sharp breath.

“Don’t move,” Kristopher said firmly, his tone gentle but commanding.

Carrie obeyed, lying still.

He applied ointment to the more severe red marks on her body.

Some areas were inflamed, and others showed signs of swelling.

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