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Chapter 397 Chapter 397 Chapter 397 I can't remember exactly when my phone died, but I do recall being scooped up from the bathroom into Ernest's arms, feeling as if every bone in my body had turned to jelly.
I was so tired, too tired to even lift my eyelids. I curled up under the covers and fell asleep.
"Just rest for a bit. I'll make you schicken soup," Ernest's husky voice murmured close to my ear.
I hummed in response and drifted off into sleep.
However, in my half-asleep state, I kept hearing my phone ringing.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtBut I didn't want to move, nor could I open my eyes. I groped around beside me, finding nothing.
"Ernest, Ernest..." I called out.
Ernest hurried over, bending down slightly, "What's up?" My eyes remained closed as I continued, "My phone...it's so noisy." "Hm?" He seemed not to catch what I said.
"The phone, noisy," I repeated.
Ernest didn't respond at first, but after a moment, he said, "Licia, you're dreaming. Your phone isn't making noise; it's turned off." Really? But what about the ringing I heard? I didn't speak further, choosing instead to continue sleeping until I woke up.
Ernest was sitting at the desk across the bed, seemingly engrossed in drawing something. He was so focused he didn't notice I had woken up.
I sat up and saw he was working on sblueprints.
He had never stopped working, which explained why Grant Smith never gave him a hard tfor not going to the office.
He had silently taken care of everything that needed to be done.
Seeing him like this, I didn't have the heart to disturb him, so I quietly got out of bed.
However, my movement still caught his attention. He turned, saw I was up, and immediately cover, putting his pen down, "Why didn't you wake me?" "You looked busy," I said, noticing my voice was hoarse.
Recalling our earlier lack of control, my cheeks instantly flamed.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmErnest noticed too, "I'll get you sthroat lozenges." "No need, I..." I stumbled over my words.
Ernest's dark eyes fixed on me, "Don't want them?" It wasn't that I didn't want them; I actually craved a baked apple. @ Whenever I had a sore throat, Lloved eating a baked apple filled with honey and a dash of cinnamon, its juice especially soothing. FindThere was this gourmet dried fruit shop in Seabreeze City that made the best baked apples, unlike anywhere else.
Except for their baked apples, I wouldn't eat anyone else's.
Sometimes I can be that particular, which is probably why I had been fixated on Conrad for ten years.
With that thought, I couldn't bring myself to express my craving fora baked apple in front of Ernest.
Instead, I lied, "I hate the Stet taste of lozenges. I'll just drink more water." Find
Ernest made soup and sside dishes, all available from the hotel room's kitchen. Hotel marketing has indeed evolved, offering much more than just a room and a bed, providing amenities almostel? like swne home. FindAfter eating the soup and sides, my throat felt much better.
However, having just woken up, I was no longer tired, but Ernest seemed to be. I caught him trying to keep his1 eyes open several times. "Ernest, you should get ssleep. I can take care of the dishes," I said, gently pushing him towards the bedroom.
"I need to take a shower; I smell like cooking," Ernest meant he hadn't cooking and showered after eobno immediately got to work on his drawings. I turned him towards the bathroom, urging him, "Then hurry up." As I pulled him closer, I sniffed his hair, "It smells good, no smell of cooking. You don't need to wash your hair." He frowned, "You can shower without washing your hair?" "Of course," I chuckled. "Ernest, you don't wash your hair every tyou shower, do you?" X