Chapter 5 His Arms, Her Sanctuary
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Delia's heart surged with joy, her pulse racing like it couldn't keep up.
Her eyes welled up for a second, momentarily stunned.
He actually pulled her into his arms-instinctively.
Curtis, oh Curtis... how did she never notice how much you cared?
The car steadied after a brief jolt.
Curtis, realizing his sudden move might've overstepped, immediately let go and nudged her back to her seat, slipping into his usual cool-headed demeanor.
"Sit properly. The road's bumpy," he said flatly, his eyes returning to the window.
But the faint flush creeping up his ears quietly betrayed him.
Delia's lips curled up in a small smile.
She took hold of his hand before he could fully retract it, clinging on like it was the most natural thing.
Her face lifted toward him, eyes bright and teasing. "Hubby, were you worried I'd bump into something? That's why you held me, right?"
Curtis froze, caught off guard. He tried to withdraw his hand, but she had a firm grip on him.
Avoiding her gaze, he swallowed hard, Adam's apple shifting ever so slightly.
Lips tightening, he stayed silent.
But to Delia, that silence screamed louder than any words.
She felt like fireworks had just gone off in her chest.
It's working-her plan was actually working.
Knowing she'd reached her goal, she let go, though she didn't move away from him at all.
"Got it, I'll sit tight. Won't cause you trouble, hubby."
Her voice was soft, almost ticklish, brushing against Curtis's nerves like a feather.
It rattled him-unexpected, yet somehow... familiar. He didn't know how to feel.
But the tender moment didn't last.
Before long, the car rolled up to the poshest hotel in downtown Oceanvale.
Noah expertly parked, got out, and swung open the back door.
"Mr. Stockton, we've arrived."
Curtis nodded, maneuvering his wheelchair to exit.
Delia followed, her eyes automatically drifting up to the glitzy hotel entrance.
She froze, her expression draining of all color.
If she wasn't mistaken, this was the place where Curtis had been attacked.
The hazy memories from her past life started coming back in a rush.
Back then, she'd been flying high from their smooth divorce, too elated to care what he was going through.
Even when Curtis ended up in the hospital, she'd been preoccupied chasing after Nathan.
It wasn't until someone else told her that she finally realized-just a day after the divorce, Curtis had been seriously injured.
Her breath hitched, chest tightening.
"You can't go in there," she blurted out, voice quivering. "Let's just go... go back home, okay?"
Noah was mid-motion unfolding the wheelchair when he heard her sudden protest. His eyebrows scrunched deep.
This woman, she really couldn't go five minutes without acting up.
Seriously?
She'd already been weird in the car-now this?
Curtis paused too.
He turned to look at Delia, frown creasing his forehead.
She had no clue what was running through his mind right then.
All she could do was silently hope-hope he'd still be willing to accept her waywardness like he used to.
His gaze was hard to read as he asked in a low, steady voice, "Delia, what are you talking about?"
Her heart jumped. Big time.
She realized she'd slipped-again-and if she didn't come up with a good cover, things would get way too sketchy.
But this? This secret was the one thing she could never, ever reveal.
What was she supposed to do? Just say, "Hey, I know because you get stabbed in there"?
What if she couldn't stop the ambush? Wouldn't that mean she basically walked him right into the trap?
In that split second, she had to come up with a more believable excuse.
"Ugh..." She clutched her chest, frowning deeply, her voice soft and shaky. "Babe, I'm feeling really awful all of a sudden. Dizzy, and my heart's racing... Do you think I'm getting sick?"
She even squeezed out a couple of tears, trying to look as pitiful as possible.
Her acting wasn't exactly award-worthy-the panic in her eyes hadn't fully faded-but when someone cares, they don't always notice the cracks.
Curtis saw the tear sliding down her cheek, and just like that, his heartstrings got pulled tight.
He didn't push for answers anymore, instead focusing on her pale face.
Delia hardly ever got sick, but whenever she said something wasn't right, he always dealt with it-whether she appreciated it or not.
"Where exactly does it hurt?" Curtis asked, his tone low and serious.
"I don't know... just feel awful." Delia leaned against him, her voice soft. "Can we not go in? I just want to go home and rest a bit with you."
She caught the slight shift in Curtis's expression and held back a smile.
"Boss." Noah finally couldn't stay quiet, his voice edged with urgency. "The meeting's about to start!"
He was fuming.
That woman again-same old tricks.
Did she really have no guilt?
Curtis hesitated for just a fleeting moment.
He looked down at Delia curled up in his arms, eyes full of conflict and worry.
But worry won out in the end.
"Let's go," he said, voice steady but firm. "We'll find another time for the meeting. Hospital comes first."
"Boss..." Noah tried again, desperate.
But the second he met Curtis's anxious gaze, the rest of his words died on his lips.
He clamped his mouth shut in frustration.
He should've seen this coming.
When it came to Delia, Curtis's rules went straight out the window.
No matter how much she hurt him before, he just couldn't bring himself to be cold to her.
Why?
Noah simmered with anger but had no choice-orders were orders.
He helped Curtis and Delia back into the car, turned it around, and headed toward the top private hospital downtown.
In the backseat, Delia secretly let out a breath of relief.
Crisis averted. For now.
She stayed snuggled against Curtis, still faking weakness.
But inside, his quick decision to put her first made her feel warm-and, truthfully, a little smug.
He still cared. That much was clear.
How'd she mess this up so badly in her last life?
With a husband like this, what was she even thinking?
All the way there, Curtis held her gently, and it almost made her forget where they were going.
Eyes half-closed, she quietly soaked in his warmth.
But as the car pulled up to the hospital entrance, Delia finally snapped back to reality.
She froze.
That all-too-familiar white building came into view, and her face instantly went ghost-pale.
Last time, after that fire left her horribly burned, this was where they brought her.
The pain from those burns hurt more than dying-every breath felt like tearing her flesh apart.
She'd wanted to die so many times, anything to escape that slow torture.
And Isabelle, pretending to be caring, had bribed the hospital staff to mess up her treatment.
Wrong meds, wrong bandaging-every mistake made the agony worse.
Her injuries hadn't even been that severe at first, but they ended up ruining her completely. Scarred beyond recognition.
The memories slammed into her like a freight train.
Cold, unforgiving needles. The searing pain. The staff's detached eyes.
And Isabelle's fake smile, smug and twisted with malice...
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