Tabitha's POV
The entire morning passed without any sign of Wilmot.
Ayla inquired about him several times, and each time I could only come up with excuses to put her off.
However, as time slipped away and Wilmot was gone for a day and a night, I couldn't help but worry.
No matter how potent the drug, it shouldn't have lasted this long, should it?
Early the next morning, as Forrest was about to leave, I quickly stopped him.
"What happened to Wilmot?" I demanded, resolute in my stance that he would not leave until he explained the situation clearly.
Forrest sighed helplessly and slowly revealed, "Wilmot is sick."
"Sick?" I hadn't expected this. He always seemed to be in good health.
"I won't hide it from you. The drug Wilmot took that night was too strong. He was worried it would affect you, so he changed rooms and spent the entire night in an ice bath. You know the temperature difference between day and night is significant. Normally, taking a cold shower is cold enough, but he added ice. And..."
My heart tightened. Had he not gone to find a woman as I had initially thought?
"And what?" I pressed on.
"The doctor had advised that the best solution would be to find a woman, but he refused, even forcing the doctor to administer an excessive dose of sedatives. With all that mess, plus spending the entire night in ice-cold water, he's not made of steel. Who could endure that?"
After listening to Forrest's account, my emotions became incredibly complicated.
"Is he, is he alright now?" I asked softly, my voice carrying a trace of undeniable concern.
"To be honest, not really well. He had a high fever all night last night. Wilmot was worried about you guys and didn't want to risk spreading the illness to you, which is why he arranged for me to bring you meals."
I bit my lip and whispered, "Can I go see him?"
"Perhaps it's better not to. Wilmot has repeatedly instructed that you should not leave the room. In about ten days, we'll reach the destination, and his illness is nothing serious."
"Okay, thank you," I said with gratitude.
"It's my pleasure. Wilmot saved my life, and he specifically asked me to take good care of you. It's all part of what I should do. I won't disturb you anymore."
Closing the door, my heart felt particularly heavy.
I couldn't quite put into words what I was feeling. It was Wilmot's own business, and we were not in a romantic relationship, so I didn't seem to be able to help with this matter.
Refusing him last night was only natural, and if he didn't want to seek a woman, that was his choice. We didn't owe each other anything.
However, thinking about how Wilmot had been taking care of me and the child, and considering he spent the whole night soaked in ice-cold water, I couldn't help but care about his condition.
At the very least, I wanted to know how he was doing now.
Throughout the morning, I was listless.
Normally, I could read a book for a whole morning, but today, holding the book in my hand, half an hour had passed, and I hadn't turned a single page.
"Mommy," Ayla looked at me with concern, "Where is Wilmot?"
I gently touched her head and feigned calmness, "He will be back soon."
At this moment, I began to realize that things were getting off track.
If Wilmot harbored special feelings for me, then our simple master-servant relationship might not be sustainable anymore.
Once we returned to Seattle and everything stabilized, I'd have to say goodbye to Wilmot.
But Ayla's dependence on him exceeded my expectations. 'When the time comes to part, how sad she will be.'
"I miss him," Ayla mumbled.
"He has to take care of something, sweetheart. Be a good girl and draw, okay? When he comes back, you can show it to him," I coaxed her.
"Okay," Ayla nodded.
Usually, I would guide her while she draws, but today, I really wasn't in the mood.
My mind kept picturing Wilmot, and I was preoccupied with when he would return.
When Ayla finished her drawing and showed it to me, I saw a bright sun, a few white clouds, and several cheerful birds in the picture.
On the green lawn, a man and a woman were holding hands, with a little girl and a little boy by their side.
It was clear that the woman in the drawing was me, and the man was Wilmot.
Seeing such a scene, my heart skipped a beat.
Ayla had obviously subconsciously cast Wilmot in the role of a father.