Hidden Desires - Family Secrets-Chapter 144 You’re awake... Part2

Her touch froze me in place, a flicker of fear igniting within, though I knew not who this woman was or why she had saved me.

I could sense her formidable presence, a strength typically attributed to men, evident from how ruthlessly she dealt with the thugs last night.

Now, inadvertently, I had crossed a line with her—though unintentionally, the thought of her possibly seeking retribution loomed over me.

But the fear in my heart vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

After all, I had been ready to give up on life; what did I have to lose now that I was living on borrowed time?

With this realization, my fear dissipated completely, and I turned to face her calmly.

I expected to meet a gaze cold with anger, but instead, I caught a glimpse of shyness in her eyes.

Though she tried to mask it with composure, the bashfulness was unmistakable.

Her demure embarrassment didn’t embarrass me; rather, it deepened my confusion.

This woman, adept at navigating social situations, quickly recovered from her initial stiffness and began guiding me slowly towards the bedroom.

Her ample chest brushed against my arm, maintaining a close proximity without any sign of pulling away.

As we walked, the sway of her body caused her breasts to rub against my arm.

At that moment, I felt a strange sensation, but nothing more; my heart felt dead, and my actions seemed driven by a mere instinct to preserve some shred of humanity.

"May I ask who you are...?" I ventured, as she helped me onto the bed.

"Just rest..." she replied, a fleeting sadness crossing her eyes as she spoke with an indescribable tenderness.

I lay down slowly, and she covered me with a blanket, ignoring my questioning gaze.

Why had sadness flickered in her eyes when I asked about her identity?

Was it just my imagination?

Perhaps my mind was simply overtaxed lately.

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I couldn’t remember who she was, but there was a vague sense of familiarity.

"Are you hungry? I’ll have someone prepare something for you..." She adjusted the pillow behind my head and spoke before turning to leave.

Her gentle tone, devoid of any pretense, made the whole scenario feel like a dream, utterly surreal.

I shook my head, feeling surprisingly relaxed and clear-headed.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, I noted that not even twenty-four hours had passed since yesterday, yet I felt completely different.

Aside from my emotions, it was as if I had consumed some miraculous elixir.

My gaze then drifted to the needle mark on the back of my hand.

I’m not usually curious or meddlesome, but my confusion was overwhelming.

I glanced at the door, then stealthily opened the drawer beside my bed.

Inside was a delicately crafted photo album.

Peeking into someone else’s privacy isn’t honorable, but my curiosity temporarily outweighed my principles.

I picked up the album and flipped to the first page, nearly dropping it in shock.

The first page held a photo of me, a candid shot taken at work, and I had no idea it had been taken.

I couldn’t even recall what I was doing at the time the photo was snapped, and the hairstyle suggested it was from a couple of years ago.

The next page featured a selfie of the mysterious woman.

Why a selfie?

I turned to the third page to find another photo of me, this time a distant shot of me embracing the sea breeze in Italy.

I remembered that photo; it was from a trip to Italy three years ago.

The fourth page showed the woman again, also at the Italian seaside, clearly another selfie.

The fifth page was another candid of me, this time gazing upward at the summit of Mount Tai in China, taken two years ago.

The sixth page mirrored this, with a selfie of her at the same location.

As I continued flipping through, the pattern persisted—candid shots of me followed by selfies of her at the same locations.

The ninth page showed me during an undercover visit to a coal mine, again a candid shot.

But the tenth page was different; it wasn’t just her photo but a photoshopped image of both of us together.

How could there be a photo of us together when I’d never met her?

The only explanation was photo manipulation.

After the tenth page, the album ended.

I closed it, my mind swirling with questions.

It was clear that the photos of me were taken without my knowledge, even during my covert visit to the coal mine.

Was someone always watching me?

And this woman—she seemed to follow my footsteps, taking selfies at every location I visited, and even fabricating a photo of us together.

Who was she, and why couldn’t I remember any interactions with her?

Why was she monitoring me?

No wonder she appeared when I was most vulnerable.

"Click..." The door opened again, and the woman entered, followed by a maid in a uniform, pushing a cart.

Her face registered surprise and a flicker of panic when she saw the album in my hands, but she quickly composed herself.

She instructed the maid to push the cart towards me and then dismissed her.

As the maid pushed the cart, she shot me a look filled with curiosity and surprise, though I couldn’t tell what sparked it.

"Have some food," the woman suggested, picking up a bowl of porridge from the cart.

She scooped up a spoonful, blew on it gently, and then extended it towards my mouth, her eyes carrying a mix of shyness and anticipation, as if hoping I would accept her gesture and eat the porridge, which might have been mixed with some exotic supplements.

"What’s wrong? Afraid it’s poisoned?" she teased, a playful challenge in her tone.

I stared at the woman, desperately searching my memory for any trace of her, but found nothing.

Holding the bowl of porridge in one hand and a spoon in the other, she waited patiently before speaking.

Her eyes twinkled with mirth, yet a shadow of sadness seemed to flicker behind her smile.

"No, can you tell me who you are? What’s all this about? Do we know each other? I apologize if it’s a forward question, but I’m genuinely curious right now..."

I didn’t reach for the porridge.

My mind was too clouded with questions, urgently seeking answers to the present mystery.