Chapter 306: Chapter 306: Are You Angry?
He tossed the used tissue into a nearby trash can and sat to the side, maintaining his usual aloof demeanor.
Hannah blinked, shifted slightly towards Arnold Simmons, and asked him again, "Mr. Simmons, are you angry?"
This time, his expression shifted slightly, the corner of his mouth curving upwards. But instead of appearing more amiable, he seemed even more threatening.
His gaze was dark but calm like a still lake, and he opened his thin lips to ask, "What do you think I am angry about?"
Chewing on her lower lip, Hannah thought for a moment before shaking her head, "I can’t figure it out."
He gave a low chuckle, his dark eyes firmly fixed on the girl in the hospital bed, "Then keep thinking, until you figure it out."
His determination seemed relentless, reminiscent of his attitude when he first met her.
He was indeed angry.
Angry that she had been hurt,
and even more furious that she was being singled out in the show and didn’t tell him.
He knew, despite her seemingly clingy nature, she was actually more headstrong than anyone else.
Despite her initial refusal for his help before the show, she stubbornly kept silent until now.
Stupid.
Just like his initial impressions of her.
Initially, his remarks were only meant as sarcastic remarks from a bystander’s view, but now, he felt angry and pained.
After a long pause, and not receiving an answer from Hannah, Arnold lifted his gaze only to find her hunched over, her hair disheveled around her shoulders, her low sobs filling the room.
Perhaps sensing his gaze, Hannah quickly wiped her tears, but her sobs grew louder.
To the utmost grievance.
Arnold was irritated, his anger subsiding significantly. He leaned in, wiped the tears from her eyes, his voice cool and commanding, "Why are you crying?"
He hasn’t even said anything yet, even if he was angry, he wouldn’t take it out on his girl.
Yet she had already begun to feel aggrieved.
"I’m not crying," Hannah kept her head low, wiping away more tears as she spoke.
Arnold chuckled, lifting her face with his hand.
Her petite and delicate face was already wet with tears, blushing more deeply at the cheeks.
Pale, blushing, mesmerizing.
Feeling the softness of her skin under his fingertips, Arnold stared intently, "Your makeup is all smeared and you still say you’re not crying?"
Hannah sulked and turned her face away, "Don’t look, I must be hideous now."
No makeup, sick in bed.
Caring so much about her looks, she seemed both pitiful and ridiculous in her panic.
He spoke in a rare soft tone, "You’re not."
She still didn’t turn back, "I don’t believe you. Men are always lying. You were probably angry earlier because I don’t look as pretty as I usually do."
Indeed, Arnold’s tone was a bit harsh, but he didn’t mean to scold Hannah.
He knew she was trying to provoke him, so he conceded, "I was wrong."
His voice was as frosty as ever, only warming slightly when he spoke to Hannah, as if flowing clear spring water.
She turned around, her face hidden behind her hands, her eyes bright and clear as if washed with water, "Really?"
Arnold’s voice was deep and pleasant, "Really."
Hannah seemed satisfied, "Then tell me, why were you angry?"
This was the question Arnold wanted Hannah to figure out by herself, but she cleverly turned it back onto him.
She seemed smarter now.
