Chapter 16- smart girl

Bruno initially suggested taking Clarisse to the hospital, but Farah, remembering that Clarisse had mentioned Jonathan was a doctor, deliberately went next door to get him. She didn't believe that the man who had tormented Clarisse to this state would remain indifferent. When Jonathan arrived in Clarisse's room, she was already burning with fever, her face flushed red. She lay in bed, curled up in discomfort.

"Farah, I'm cold, I'm freezing..." she mumbled weakly.

Jonathan frowned at the sight of her suffering. Farah lifted Clarisse's blanket, pointing at the marks on her neck and chest, and bluntly scolded Jonathan,

"Jonathan, have you never been with a woman before? How could you treat her so roughly on her first time?"

Jonathan glared angrily at Farah. Despite her fever-induced haze, Clarisse felt deeply embarrassed. Farah had stripped off her wet clothes, dragged her to the bathroom for a shower, dried her off, and then stuffed her into bed without giving her anything to wear.

Clarisse tried to pull the blanket back up but lacked the strength. Farah dropped the blanket with a cold snort and left the room. After Farah left, Jonathan reached out to check Clarisse's forehead, but she instinctively recoiled and turned away from him, whispering,

"I want to go to the hospital!"

She didn't want him to treat her, fearing he would accuse her of manipulation after curing her illness. Jonathan frowned and turned her to face him,

"I'm a doctor. I can treat this fever easily. Why do you need to go to the hospital?"

Summoning strength from somewhere, she stubbornly turned away again,

"I want to go to the hospital!"

"Clarisse!" he shouted, unable to control his frustration. What was the point of her childish stubbornness now? Her health was more important than this petty quarrel.

His shout silenced her. With a stern face, he took her temperature. Her fever was indeed high, but not as severe as Farah had suggested. In this situation, regular medicine and injections wouldn't suffice. When he brought out the IV equipment, she suddenly shrank under the covers, refusing to come out.

"I don't want an injection, I don't want an injection, I'll just take medicine..."

"You're a grown woman, afraid of a simple injection!" Jonathan was exasperated, about to pull back the covers, but remembered her state of undress and awkwardly lowered his hand,

"Clarisse, the injection will help you recover faster..."

His voice was uncharacteristically gentle and coaxing. Clarisse gradually calmed down and extended her arm to him. As he administered the injection, she began to sob again, not from the pain but from the emotional toll,

"I'm not that kind of person! Jonathan, I'm not, I'm not—"

Jonathan paused, understanding she referred to his earlier accusations of manipulation. Seeing her gaunt, tear-streaked face, he felt a pang of guilt. His lips moved before he finally spoke,

"Last night... it was all my fault..."

Indeed, it was his fault. She hadn't refused him and had even responded to him, but he should have controlled himself. Now, with things in such a state, how could they face each other in the future?

Jonathan's words made Clarisse's eyes sting a bit, and she shook her head. "No, Jonathan, you're not wrong. I don't regret what happened last night as long as you don't think of me that way! Last night..." If it weren't for his words this morning, she would have no regrets. She willingly gave herself to him. With a trembling lip, she finally spoke the last sentence, "Let's just forget about last night, okay?"

Forget about it? What else could they do if they didn't forget? Follow his suggestion, find her father, and force him to marry her? No, she couldn't do that. She couldn't bear to trouble him. She pretended to be strong and indifferent, causing a flicker of astonishment to pass through Jonathan's cold eyes. Then he regained his composure. Since she said to forget it, then they would forget it. He would never allow himself to make such a mistake again.

Clarisse watched him accept her words calmly, feeling a bitter pang in her heart. She knew he couldn't react any differently, but she still vaguely hoped. She was hopelessly naive.

Avoiding his gaze, she said, "Jonathan, you should go. I feel a bit dizzy; I'll rest for a while."

"Drink some water before sleeping to rehydrate!"

Jonathan glanced at her dry lips and fetched a large glass of water from beside him. Leaning over, he tried to help her up, but she stubbornly tilted her head away. "I'm not thirsty, I don't want to drink..."

She didn't want him to feed her water! She didn't want his slightest hint of tenderness! Because... that would only make her fall deeper.

Unable to persuade her, Jonathan sat back down and moistened her lips with a cotton swab dipped in water. Clarisse was surprised by his actions and looked at him with a mixture of confusion and resignation. She wanted to ask him, was he doing this out of a doctor's care for his patient, or because she had become his woman last night?

When Farah pushed the door open and entered, she saw this scene. She stuck out her tongue, about to leave, but Jonathan stood up and turned to her. "You're just in time. She's about to sleep; watch over her for a while. She's on a drip; make sure she doesn't accidentally pull out the needle!"

Farah argued with him, "I don't want to! Why should I take care of your woman?"

Farah intentionally emphasized "your woman." She didn't know how awkward it was for the two who had just decided to forget about last night. Jonathan approached Farah, gritted his teeth, and whispered in her ear, "Do you want me to stay and cause trouble?"

God knows why he had felt so tempted when he fed her water just now. He had told himself not to entangle with her anymore, but he couldn't help but recall last night, her tender skin, her firm softness, and the scenes of her shyly enjoying their intimacy.

"Oh! Jonathan, you, you..."

Farah glanced at Clarisse, who was watching them puzzled, swallowed the words "pervert" at her lips, then snorted and walked over to sit by Jane's bed. Jonathan walked out.

"What did he say to you?" Clarisse looked at Farah curiously.

"He said he loves you!"

Clarisse suddenly closed her mouth. He loves her? She wasn't that unrealistic. The word "love" could be so delightful and so hurtful.

Farah scolded her, "You know that's impossible, right? So can you please wake up and smell the coffee? You're supposed to be a smart girl; why is your emotional intelligence zero?"