Chapter 250: Chapter 250: Perhaps, Real Feelings
Where her wrist was held, a faint warmth seemed to travel silently beneath her skin.
The heat wasn’t scalding, yet its presence was undeniable, seeping inch by inch through her flesh and deep into her veins.
Adrian Lancaster’s thumb unconsciously stroked the small hollow by the bone on the inside of Wren Sutton’s wrist, very lightly, very slowly.
The motion sent a subtle shiver spreading silently up her arm.
Not expecting Adrian Lancaster to suddenly wake up, Wren Sutton froze.
Those eyes, usually so clear and sharp, were now veiled with the haze of someone newly awakened. But beneath the mist, they were still a heart-stopping, deep black.
For a moment, Wren forgot to pull her hand back, forgot to look away.
The night light cast a diagonal glow from the side of the sofa, carving his face into a landscape of light and shadow.
His straight nose formed the clearest dividing line.
On the illuminated side, the texture of his skin and the fine hairs of his eyelashes were clearly visible. His long lashes cast a small, fan-shaped shadow on his eyelids.
On the shadowed side, the contours of his eye socket seemed deeper. His eyes were like bottomless pools, silently absorbing all emotion and light.
He just stared at Wren, unblinking, his gaze so focused it seemed to want to pierce through her pupils and see into the depths of her soul.
A thick silence fermented in the air, mixed with the heavy night outside and the unique, sweet, warm scent of milk from the sleeping babies inside.
"I was being quiet." Wren finally found her voice. Her throat was a little dry, and she kept her volume low, afraid of waking the sleeping children.
"I didn’t think I’d still wake you. I’m sorry."
"It’s not your fault," Adrian replied immediately. His voice held the unique rasp of someone just waking up—grainy, yet exceptionally clear.
"I’m a light sleeper. The slightest disturbance wakes me up."
He paused briefly, his gaze lingering on Wren’s face. In that short silence, something softer seemed to be brewing.
Then, he added, "Besides... it was you."
The four words were as light as a sigh, but Wren heard them.
That subtle, deliberate pause was like the lightest feather, brushing right over the most sensitive spot in her heart. It tickled, stirring a faint, unfamiliar flutter that left her unable to identify the feeling.
Adrian pushed himself up with his arms, sitting up.
The thin blanket that had been covering his shoulders slipped down with the movement, pooling around his lean waist.
He paid it no mind. His gaze shifted from Wren’s face, moving slowly downward, finally resting on her bare ankles on the cold wooden floor.
Her fair skin glowed softly in the dim yellow light. The top of her foot was slender, revealing the faint blue network of her veins.
"Why aren’t you wearing shoes?" he immediately frowned, his chiding tone filled with concern and tension.
"The floor is cold. This time of year, the chill can easily seep in through the soles of your feet. It’s bad for you."
The moment he finished speaking, his other hand reached out.
Not to grab Wren’s cold feet, but to naturally lift a corner of the still-warm blanket on his lap, revealing the soft fleece underneath and the side of his leg, clad in pajama pants.
"Step here."
Wren was speechless.
Adrian’s movements were so fluid and natural that Wren froze for a second, unable to react immediately.
Beneath the blanket, his body heat faintly radiated through the thin cotton pants, forming a silent, warm invitation.
Her toes curled unconsciously, but she remained standing where she was.
Adrian didn’t wait. Seeing that she hadn’t moved, he reached out, his large, warm palm gently grasping her cold ankle.
The touch sent a slight tremor through Wren’s entire body.
"Adrian," she said, instinctively trying to pull her foot back.
"Don’t move." Adrian’s voice carried a gentle force that left no room for argument.
At the same time, his palm circled Wren’s slender ankle with utmost gentleness, his thumb resting right beside the slightly protruding bone.
Then, with a gentle lift and pull, he irresistibly drew her cold feet under the blanket, placing them directly beside the warmth of his leg.
Warm, dry heat, carrying his body temperature, instantly enveloped her cold soles like a rising tide, spreading up through her veins.
Wren froze completely, as if she’d even stopped breathing for a moment.
Her toes inadvertently brushed against the skin of Adrian’s leg. The warm, firm contact made her want to recoil as if shocked, but he seemed to have anticipated it, gently pressing the top of her foot with his palm.
"They’re this cold," he murmured, his palm conforming to the cool skin of her instep, a constant stream of heat transferring over. "How long were you standing here?"
As he spoke, he was still holding her wrist, his other hand cupping her foot.
The position forced Wren to lean forward slightly, one hand bracing against the soft edge of the sofa to keep her balance.
The distance between them was suddenly closed, so close she could see her own reflection in his pupils, so close she could feel the faint current of his steady breath brushing against the stray hairs on her forehead.
"Not long." Wren hastily averted her gaze, her eyes landing on the edge of the blanket that had slipped down to his arm during his movements.
"Your blanket slipped off. I just came over to cover you back up."
Adrian followed her gaze and looked down. A hard, weary corner of his heart suddenly softened and gave way, like cotton completely soaked in a warm spring, swelling full with an aching warmth that threatened to overflow from his chest.
He restrained himself, not letting the curve of his lips become too obvious, but the faint, dim light deep in his eyes could no longer be hidden.
That light brightened bit by bit, rising from the bottom of the deep pool to the surface, gradually spreading in soft, tiny ripples.
Adrian looked again at Wren’s profile, so close to him.
Her eyes were lowered, her long, dense lashes casting a small, fan-shaped shadow on her eyelids, trembling slightly with each breath.
Her nose was elegant, the curve of its tip as gentle as a line meticulously drawn by a master painter, glowing with a delicate, pearlescent luster in the hazy light.
"So," his voice grew raspier, steeped by the night until it was deeper and richer. Each word seemed coated in honey, delivered slowly and clearly to her ear.
"You came in here specifically... just to cover me with a blanket."
Wren struggled gently at her wrist. This time, Adrian obligingly loosened his grip, but he didn’t let go completely.
Silence spread between them, but it wasn’t awkward. Instead, it was like a soft cocoon, temporarily separating them from the outside world.
The serene scent of milk from the babies drifted in the air, the warm yellow glow of the night light flowed silently, and their own soft breaths rose and fell, intertwining.
After a long while, Wren spoke.
"Not specifically. I woke up and wanted to check on the children. When I turned around, I just happened to see your blanket had fallen off, so I came over to fix it."
Even though Wren emphasized it wasn’t "specifically" for him, the cotton in Adrian’s chest, soaked in warm water, continued to swell, churning with an indescribable joy.
He unconsciously tightened his grip on her hand, his knuckles turning faintly white with restraint, only to startle and relax the very next second, terrified of hurting her.
"Wren," he called her name, the sound rolling off his tongue with a sense of cherished gravity.
Something long-suppressed was stirring silently in his voice, threatening to burst from his throat.
"You were worried about me."
As he said the words, even he held his breath, his eyes locked on Wren’s face, unwilling to miss the slightest change in her expression.
Wren lifted her eyes to look at him.
The moment their eyes met, Adrian clearly saw something flash through her clear pupils.
It was like a shooting star in the night sky, its light brief but brilliant.
Or like a stone tossed into a deep pool, spreading an infinitesimally small ripple.
It was real, not his imagination.
Then, her thick, long lashes slowly lowered, like two exquisite butterfly wings, hiding all the emotions that might have been revealed in her eyes.
"The weather’s getting colder." She spoke the most ordinary of words, her tone returning to its usual calmness. But the hand he held, its fingertips slightly curled, moved unconsciously. The soft pads of her fingers grazed the lines on his palm, sending an imperceptible tingle through him.
"Sleeping on the sofa like this, you could easily catch a cold."
Every word was like a small, smooth pebble dropped one after another into the lake of Adrian’s heart, stirring up ever-widening ripples of warmth.
He tightened his grip on her hand again. This time it wasn’t tentative or restrained, but an almost instinctive impulse to seize this bit of warmth, to hold on to this piece of care that had arrived silently in the night—insignificant, yet reaching straight to the bottom of his heart.
"I’m not cold." Adrian smiled gently. "You, on the other hand... your hands are so chilly, your feet are ice-cold, and you’re awake in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. Did you have a nightmare? Or are you not feeling well?"
Wren shook her head lightly, a few stray strands of hair swaying with the movement.
"No nightmare, I just... woke up."
She turned her head, her gaze softening as it fell on the two cribs placed side by side against the wall.
The two little ones were bundled in soft sleep sacks, their small chests rising and falling rhythmically. They were sleeping soundly, their little mouths occasionally making unconscious smacking sounds.
"I couldn’t sleep, so I came in to check on the children. They’re sleeping very well."
Adrian followed her gaze, looking at the two small, peacefully sleeping faces.
He watched quietly for a moment, as if to etch the peaceful scene into his memory.
Then, his gaze returned, landing once more on the face so close to him, the face he couldn’t look away from.
"But you’re not sleeping well."
Wren shook her head again, this time a faint, reassuring smile even gracing her lips.
"It’s fine. It’s just occasional insomnia, nothing serious. I really don’t feel unwell anywhere."
The night deepened.
Outside the window, the world was utterly silent. Even the sound of the occasional passing car in the distance had vanished, leaving only an endless quiet.
Adrian suddenly let go of Wren’s hand and stood up.
His tall figure instantly blocked part of the light, casting a shadow over her.
"I’ll go warm a cup of milk for you. It helps with sleep."
"You don’t have to go to that trouble," Wren immediately said, reaching out to stop him.
"The sun will be up in a few hours. You had a long day, you should take advantage of the kids being asleep to get some more rest yourself."
Adrian didn’t stop, stubbornly walking out with a steady gait that held an unquestionable resolve.
"If you can’t sleep well, I can’t rest easy either."
He glanced back at Wren from the doorway, his gaze deep, swirling with too many emotions she didn’t want to delve into at that moment.
"Just wait a few minutes. I’ll bring it right out."
Wren wanted to say more, but Adrian had already left the bedroom and gone to the kitchen.
Watching the direction he disappeared in, she let out a soft sigh.
In that sigh, there was helplessness, but also a trace of something else, something more complex.
She sat on the sofa, her body sinking into the soft cushions.
Lowering her gaze, her eyes fell on the hand Adrian had been holding for so long.
The dry, warm touch of his hand seemed to linger in her palm. Beneath her skin, the feeling of being warmed up refused to fade.
And the web of her hand, the spot his thumb had repeatedly and unconsciously caressed, was now faintly hot. The heat wasn’t intense, but it was stubborn, like a silent brand, a clear reminder of everything that had just happened.
Wren unconsciously curled her fingers, hiding the swirling thoughts in her eyes.
’This scene feels so much like the one in my dream from a week ago.’
’But what’s happening now isn’t a dream. It’s real.’
Wren closed her eyes, letting the ripples spread through her heart.
’Maybe... Adrian really does have feelings for me.’
