Third person's POV
The first thing Tabitha asked upon seeing Wilmot was, "How's Tucker? Is he okay?"
"He's doing well. I've entrusted him to a friend who will take good care of him. Dr. Romero was worried that others might not take good care of you, so he specifically arranged for me to come and look after you."
"Thank you, Wilmot."
With that, Tabitha turned and went back to her room.
Was this just her imagination?
Reuniting with someone she was supposed to part ways with, she didn't feel a shred of happiness. Instead, a strange sensation welled up inside her.
It was as if this person shouldn't be here, yet the reason for his presence seemed reasonable.
Tabitha's intuition told her she should keep her distance from him.
Being around someone she didn't know well, whose background she wasn't clear on, for an extended period wasn't a good idea.
So, subconsciously, she wanted to avoid Wilmot.
For the next few days, Tabitha mostly stayed in her room, seldom going out.
She even skipped meals outside.
Wilmot brought the food to her room's doorstep, and Tabitha would just say 'thank you' before closing the door. They barely exchanged a few words a day.
Wilmot's demeanor remained the same as usual. He didn't slacken his duties because of Tabitha's distance.
On the contrary, he delivered the three meals on time every day and even prepared fresh afternoon tea and fruit for her in the afternoon.
He even peeled and sliced apples for her, making them easy to eat.
Despite his rugged appearance, he was surprisingly thoughtful.
Holding the glass grapes he brought, Tabitha's eyes took on a thoughtful look.
In the past, it was the housekeeper who cooked for her. Tabitha didn't like to trouble others, so she never told others what she liked or disliked.
She ate whatever the housekeeper prepared, be it meals or fruits.
Orson had also taken care of her before, but she never specified any preferences, and he didn't know her tastes.
Yet, since she boarded the ship, every meal and fruit was varied and mostly to her liking.
Even the housekeeper sometimes cooked one or two dishes she didn't like. But during these days at sea, there wasn't a single dish she didn't enjoy.
Statistically, this was nearly impossible.
And in this world, only one person knew her preferences so well.
Two hours later, Wilmot came to clear her plate, noticing the grapes untouched.
"Ms. Hartley, were the grapes too sour for your taste? I tasted them. They shouldn't be too sour."
Tabitha lazily lay on the bed, propping her chin with one hand, her expression cold as she said, "I never said I didn't like sour things. How did you know I didn't?"
Wilmot quickly replied, "Don't most girls prefer sweet foods? I figured you would too. Ms. Hartley, do you like sour things? I'll go to the kitchen and get some sour fruits for you. Oh, I remember we have some sour apricots."
Seeing him about to leave, Tabitha quickly called out, "No, I just have no appetite. I'll be fine after a rest."
"Life at sea can be monotonous and boring. Such days will continue for a long time. Dr. Romero specifically instructed me to ensure you eat on time and take in as much nutrition as possible for your body to recover faster. So, Ms. Hartley, please don't hesitate to tell me if you have any issues. It's my job, after all."
"Alright, I'll rest a bit longer."
"Okay, I'll be right outside the door. Just call if you need anything."
With that, Wilmot considerately closed the door.
Tabitha looked at the closed door, having been closely observing Wilmot's expression. After she asked that question, his expression didn't change at all.
If he had something to hide, he wouldn't be so calm and unflustered.
She rubbed her temples, thinking she was really paranoid from all the stuff with Derek, suspecting everyone around her.