Chapter119
“It’s definitely infected,” the doctor said helplessly. “You must have gotten it wet.”
Wesley replied with a quiet “Mm,” still watching Prisci.
He was waiting.
The living room and dining room weren’t far apart, and from where Prisci sat, she only had to turn her head slightly to see into the living room.
But she never turned her head, as if today’s breakfast was especially delicious.
It took half an hour to treat the wounds, and the doctor asked someone to bring more medicine.
By then, Prisci had finished her breakfast.
She stood up and nced indifferently at the living room.
Wesley stared at her intently, a wave of nervousness rising in
his heart.
But Prisci only nced at him before turning and going upstairs.
Wesley felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over his heart, leaving himpletely chilled.
When he smelled of medicine, she didn’t ask a single
question.
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Chapter119
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Now, even as he treated his wounds in front of her, she still said nothing.
She was utterly cold to him.
Just now, her gaze seemed not to be looking at her husband, but at a stranger.
The doctor was instructing the servant on how to use the
medicine.
Wesley clenched his fists.
“Go call Prisci down here,” he ordered the servant coldly.
Prisci had just entered the study and was about to pick out a book from the pile to pass the time.
The servant stood at the door and said, “Madam, Mr. Carlton asks you toe downstairs.”
Prisci replied coldly, “I’m not going.”
A few minutester, the servant came upstairs again.
“Madam, he says you must go downstairs.”
Prisci didn’t want to go, but when she thought of Bonnie, she put down her book.
She walked slowly into the living room and stood beside the doctor, showing no intention of speaking.
Wesley kept watching her, trying to catch any change of emotion on his wife’s indifferent face.
The doctor nced left and right, clearly sensing the discord
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between the couple.
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Holding the medicine, he braced himself and said to Prisci, “Madam, this is Mr. Carlton’s medicine. The instructions are…”
He exined, expecting Prisci to be impatient, but she wasn’t; instead, she listened attentively.
“Understood.”
Her mood remained steady throughout.
After giving his instructions, the doctor left.
Prisci told the servant to put the medicine away. From start to finish, she never asked where her husband’s injury was or whether it hurt.
Wesley felt a deste emptiness inside, and his face gradually darkened.
As Prisci was about to leave, he grabbed her wrist, unable to control his panic and anger.
“I’m sick.” He stared intently into her bright eyes.
Prisci looked at him quietly and said coolly, “Just take your medicine on time.”
She seemed serious, but it was the height of perfunctoriness.
Wesley’s throat was unbearably dry. “Prisci, I have a fever.”
He emphasized it.
“If you really feel that bad, then go to the hospital.” Prisci said indifferently, pulling her wrist free.
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As for how unwell he actually was, she didn’t care.
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A look of pain shed in Wesley’s eyes, but he couldn’t say another word.
All of this was his own doing.
He deserved it.
Prisci went to the study, sat by the window reading, her fair face calm and untroubled.
Before long, footsteps sounded.
She looked up slightly.
Wesley ced a ss of water and some medicine by her
side. “Your cold isn’t better yet. Remember to take your
medicine.”
Prisci put down her book, swallowed the medicine, and set the ss back.
She picked up her book again, showing no intention of talking
to him.
Wesley stood there for a while. He would have preferred her to cry, to hit <i>or </i>scold him, anything but this emotionless calm.
His thin lips moved a few times, but in the end, he said nothing.
He left in dejection.
After he left, Prisci’s hand paused on the page, not turning it for a long time.
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In the afternoon, Wesley called and asked Prisci to get ready to attend a small gathering with some friends.
His tone was gentle, with no trace of the morning’s unpleasantness,
Prisci agreed, went to the dressing room, casually changed into an off–white dress, and braided her long hair–just enough to be presentable.
Once she was ready, the driver took her out.
She had never attended any of Wesley’s private gatherings with friends before.
After all, everyone knew their marriage hadn’t started with love, and a loveless marriage was bound to end sooner orter.
Prisci arrived a bit early; there were only three or four people scattered in the private room.
Among them were Larissa and Juniper.
At the first sight of Larissa, Prisci frowned.
If she had known Larissa would be here, she wouldn’t have
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