Was It Love, or Just a Dream? 4

Annabel sat in the VIP row of the concert hall, the music washing over her in gentle waves. Beside her, Tristan leaned in with that familiar, soft smile and carefully adjusted the shawl around her shoulders. “Cold?” he asked quietly. She shook her head, but her brows knitted together as a sharp cramp twisted through her lower abdomen. He was perceptive. “Is it your period?” Feeling the warmth spreading beneath her, Annabel gave a faint nod. Tristan placed his large and warm hand over her abdomen and gently rubbed it. “Is it overbearing? Should we head home instead?” he suggested, voice tinged with guilt. She shook her head again. Left with no choice, he could only call his assistant and tell him to bring some tampons and a heating pad. During this period, Tristan’s attention never left Annabel. He kept checking on her, gently rubbing her stomach, and asking if she needed warm water or a blanket. Every little gesture was so thoughtful and deliberate, almost like she was the sole treasure in his heart. About 30 minutes later, footsteps approached in a hurry. Someone called out softly, “Mr. Morse, these are the things you asked for.” When Annabel and Tristan turned around, they saw Cassie holding a paper bag. Her hair was slightly damp, and her complexion was still pale. His face immediately dropped. “You’re still recovering. Who told you to come? I asked Nick to bring them.” Cassie bit her lip. “Mr. Langston was in the middle of a project meeting. I was worried your wife might be in too much pain, and you’d be anxious waiting, so I came myself…” As she spoke, she held out the paper bag and added, “It’s pouring outside, and I forgot my umbrella… But don’t worry—everything inside is perfectly dry.” Tristan’s expression shifted again, conflicted. In the end, he took the bag and handed it to Annabel. “Come on, honey. I’ll go to the restroom with you.” Annabel didn’t say a word. She took the bag and entered the restroom alone. When she came out, the spot where Tristan had promised to wait was empty. Just as she turned to leave, she heard faint sounds from the next restroom. She stopped over quietly and froze. There, in the dim light, Tristan had Cassie pinned against the sink, kissing her deeply. She was slightly resisting him. “Don’t… Ms. Norton must be waiting for you…” “She can wait,” he said, voice hoarse and deep. “Did you expect me to feel nothing when you came all the way here through the rain?” “I was just worried about her… If she’s upset, you’ll get upset…” she said, trembling with a tearful edge. “I just want you… to be happy…” His heart melted even more. He deepened the kiss, and a moan escaped from her lips. Tristan chuckled softly. “What’s wrong? You like it?” Cassie, flushed, pushed him away shyly. “You should go back to Ms. Norton… I… I can finish by myself…” “And how are you going to do that?” Tristan teased softly, his voice dripping with a protective kind of mockery. “I know how to make you feel even better.” His hand slid lower. Then came the rustle of fabric, her stifled breaths, and his deep, coaxing murmurs. “Be a good girl and relax…” Annabel stood just outside the door, her heart breaking with unbearable pain. They were only 18 when they had their first kiss. Beneath a sky full of fireworks, Tristan cupped her face gently and asked, “Can I kiss you, Anna?” Blushing, she nodded. He leaned down, his kiss tender as if holding a fragile treasure. She then recalled their first night together. He was careful, restrained, and constantly asking if she was okay. Only when she shook her head did he let himself fully take over her. Afterward, he held her close, promising he would always be good to her. But now, in that very restroom, he was using his fingers to please another woman. What a betrayal. Annabel’s heart felt torn in two, the pain so sharp she could barely stand. Staggering back, she collided with a decorative vase by the wall. A loud crash shattered their momentary fantasy. “Who’s that?” he questioned harshly.