Was It Love, or Just a Dream? 6

Annabel had a long dream. In it, Tristan was 14 again. He had a bruise at the corner of his mouth, but grinned with a reckless pride. She crouched before him, gently dabbing antiseptic on the bruise, and scolded with reddened eyes, “Are you insane? 30 guys at once? You think you’re a superhero or something?” He just raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. “They tried to rob you! No one gets to mess with you!” The teen boy lifted his chin, gaze fierce and unwavering. “As long as I’m here, no one lays a hand on you.” In the dream, Annabel cried and called out to him, “Tristan…” However, he didn’t seem to hear her. He took the 14-year-old version of her by her hand and walked away. The scene shifted—she saw Tristan shielding Cassie as the rigging crashed down, all while she had to bleed alone on the floor. Her eyes snapped open, tears soaking into the pillow beneath her cheek. Before Annabel could catch her breath, she saw Cassie, now in her ward, throw herself into Tristan’s arms, crying. “It’s all my fault… I shouldn’t have pulled that tassel… If I hadn’t, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt… Just punish me, will you?” Tristan helplessly wiped away her tears. “Are you sure?” Choking on her tears, she nodded. “Yes. I deserve my punishment. If I don’t get any, I won’t be able to sleep tonight…” He smiled and then pinched her cheek. “Call me darling, then.” She was stunned. “What?” “Do it.” With flushed cheeks, Cassie muttered, “Darling…” Tristan ruffled her hair gently, his voice soft. “Now, you have to listen to me. I’ll handle things my way, so just rest easy.” She gave a small nod and quietly left. Meanwhile, Annabel watched everything from the bed. Her fingers accidentally knocked over the cup on the nightstand, creating a loud clatter. Tristan cocked his head at her and finally noticed she was awake. He rushed over, eyes full of concern. “Are you okay, Anna? Are you hurt anywhere?” He gripped her hand, sounding remorseful. “I’m so sorry. It was so chaotic back there that I couldn’t tell who it was…” Not intending to expose his lies, she closed her eyes and softly asked, “Where’s Cassie?” His face shifted slightly. He assumed Annabel would get Cassie into trouble, so he quickly explained, “She didn’t mean it, I promise. Of course, this is all her fault, so I’ve already punished her.” Her mind took her back to the intimate scene where he had Cassie call him “darling” earlier. Was that the so-called punishment? How pathetic. She stayed silent, neither questioning why her husband had mistaken her for another woman nor hysterically accusing him of being biased. Instead, she simply said, “I’m hungry.” Tristan froze. He stared into her eyes and finally sensed something was off. Annabel was too calm… like a still pond with no life beneath. He opened his mouth to say something, but she spoke again, quietly but firmly. “I’m hungry.” It threw him off completely. He swallowed the uneasiness and gently nodded. “Okay, honey. I’ll get you something to eat. Wait for me.” He grabbed his keys and left in a hurry. The moment the door shut behind him, tears spilled from Annabel’s eyes in a silent rush. She quickly wiped them away. As she looked out the window, the sun was blinding, yet none of its warmth was enough to touch her. Love was desperation, while hatred was loud and reluctant. Right now, she felt neither of those for him.