The color drained further from Vanessa''s face. She looked at Henry—his smile was bright, his gaze gentle, but she knew something had changed.


    And it was all because of Selma Quigley.


    Henry grew flustered under her intense stare. He scratched the back of his head. "Vanessa, what''s gotten into you today? You seem so down. Did something happen with you andn?"


    Just then, the housekeeper brought over a bowl of porridge and set it on the coffee table. "Miss Shannon, your food is ready."


    "Thank you, just leave it there," Vanessa said. She then tried to reach for the bowl but gasped in pain.


    "What''s wrong?" Henry asked immediately.


    Vanessa sank back into the sofa and gently lifted the sleeve of her sweater, revealing the fresh wound and the shocking, dark bruise that covered the entire crook of her arm.


    Henry grabbed her wrist, his voice sharp with worry. "What is this?"


    Vanessa tried to pull her arm back, but he held on tighter. "Tell me what


    happened. How did you get this?"


    "Henry... please don''t ask," she said, turning her face away.


    "Fine, I won''t ask," he relented with a sigh. "But you need to rest. And if you need anything, you have to tell me."


    Vanessa frowned. This wasn''t the Henry she knew.


    "Henry, my arm hurts. Could you... could you feed me?" she asked, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes.


    Seeing her so pale and fragile, with that awful bruise on her arm, how could he refuse? "Of course. You just sit there. I''ll feed you."


    He picked up the steaming bowl, carefully scooped a spoonful, and blew on it before bringing it to her lips.


    Vanessa took a tiny sip and immediately recoiled. "It''s hot."


    Henry paused, then blew on the spoon again before carefully offering it to her once more. She took a small bite, her eyes fixed on his face with a look of deep affection.


    He felt his cheeks grow warm under her gaze. Let me just cool this down a bit," he said, standing up. He took the bowl to the kitchen and set it in a basin of cool water to bring down the temperature.


    Vanessa''s expression hardened. Ever since that day at the movie theater, she had sensed a change in him and his reaction now only confirmed it. He was deliberately. creating distance. The old Henry would have relished the intimacy of blowing on each spoonful for her. Now, he was actively avoiding it.


    What kind of spell had that Selma Quigley cast on him to make a man who had chased her for six years suddenly pull away?


    A potent mix of panic and resentment welled up inside her. If she was losing Henry, her most loyal safety, then she was...


    "Okay, it''s cooled down now," Henry said cheerfully, returning with the bowl and sitting beside her.


    Vanessa forced a sweet smile. "You''re always so clever. I can eat it myself now."


    She reached for the bowl, but Henry moved it away. "Your arm is in no condition. Let me."