Third person's POV
Before Tabitha could figure out how to respond, Derek seemed to fear causing her too much distress.
He hastily added, "Ms. Hartley, you really don't need to be too troubled by this matter. I like you, and that's ultimately my own affair. I will, as before, try to make myself as unobtrusive as possible and not interfere too much in your life. However..."
Pausing for a moment, Derek's eyes betrayed a hint of stubbornness.
His tone became even more resolute, "Liking you is also my freedom. Even if you grow tired of me because of it, even if you feel burdened by my feelings, you couldn't stop me from continuing to like you, not even if you took my life."
Tabitha listened to his straightforward and fervent words, feeling her ears burn and her heart race like a rabbit kicking inside her chest.
She couldn't help but wonder to herself, how had the once seemingly honest and simple him changed so completely?
His unreserved honesty left her with nowhere to hide, and she didn't know how to respond.
It was Derek who first broke the awkward atmosphere.
Gently lifting the blanket, he slowly got out of bed, straightening his clothes as he said, "Alright, as I mentioned before, you shouldn't feel any psychological burden. It's getting late. I'll walk you back so you can rest early."
"No need. I can go back by myself. It's not far," Tabitha quickly declined, not quite used to this somewhat intimate way of interacting.
"The ship isn't very safe at night. I'd better walk you," Derek said, swiftly getting up and putting on his coat.
At that moment, noticing Tabitha was dressed a bit lightly, he, without hesitation, picked up a suit jacket and casually draped it over her shoulders.
The action was natural and effortless, as if he had done it countless times before.
Tabitha was about to refuse, but before she could speak, Derek, as if guessing her thoughts, quickly explained, "This one is clean. Just don't disdain it."
"I... I didn't mean that, I..." Tabitha was momentarily at a loss for words, a hint of embarrassment flushing her face, wanting to explain but feeling like it would only make things more confusing.
"I understand," Derek said, standing by the door and extending his hand towards her.
His eyes were filled with sincerity and concern, as if silently telling her, 'Trust me and follow.'
Tabitha blinked, then came to her senses, realizing that indeed, a single woman moving about on the ship did pose many dangers.
Her gaze unconsciously fell on Derek, who was wearing a half-face mask that cleverly concealed his otherwise ordinary face, lending him an air of mystery and intrigue.
Tabitha glanced inadvertently and was startled to find his silhouette strikingly similar to Derek's.
As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she quickly dismissed it, laughing at her own absurdity.
Derek, though of similar height, was noticeably more robust.
Wilmot appeared to be about ten pounds lighter.
Moreover, Derek always dressed impeccably in suits and shirts, with a neatly tied tie, not a wrinkle in sight, exuding an aristocratic aura in every movement.
In contrast, Wilmot, who rarely wore formal attire, had the top two buttons of his white shirt undone, the shirttail hanging loose outside his pants, and his suit jacket wide open, revealing the shirt's hem.
He exuded a casual and carefree vibe and, with the mask, added a touch of roguish charm.
Tabitha hesitated for a moment, then slowly raised her hand and gently placed it in his palm.
The moment his palm touched hers, Tabitha felt a slight tremor in her heart. His hands, like Derek's, were rough with callouses, not smooth at all.
So, when he slightly clenched his palm, Tabitha had a fleeting illusion, as if she saw Derek's shadow again, the once familiar figure that stirred a mix of emotions within her.
The door slowly opened, and a gust of sea wind howled through, the cool breeze brushing against her cheeks, snapping Tabitha back to her senses.
Her thoughts drifted as she recalled the latest news about Derek she had seen just yesterday.
Initially, the media reported that he had gone to Africa for relief efforts, earning praise for his kindness.
But now, it was said that he had built a factory in Africa and started a new business venture.
Tabitha thought to herself, this was more in line with his nature as a businessman. All that charity was just a cover, the relief efforts nothing more than a pretext for chasing profits.
Those places, though poor and backward, offered greater profit margins precisely because of their conditions.
Shaking her head slightly, Tabitha tried to clear her mind of these thoughts and silently followed Wilmot back.
They hadn't gone far when they encountered a group of men and women, reeking of alcohol, clearly just coming from a drinking session.
One of the men, drunk, pressed a woman against the railing and began to kiss her without a care for anyone around.
The smacking sounds of their lips were all too clear in the quiet night, making the scene quite provocative.
As Tabitha passed by, she dared not look, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment.
But just then, the group's gaze fell on her, their eyes carrying an indescribable meaning that made Tabitha's heart race with discomfort.
At that moment, Derek, sensing her unease, naturally put his arm around her waist, claiming her as his to protect in a way that was clear to others.
Tabitha quickened her pace, thinking to herself that those engaging in such intimate acts didn't seem embarrassed, but she, just a passerby, was mortified and wanted to leave the scene as quickly as possible.
After they had passed, Mathilda emerged slowly from behind the group.
Leaning casually against a man, she held an apple in her hand, idly tossing it up and down.
Her gaze, however, was firmly locked on Tabitha and Derek as they left, her eyes filled with an inscrutable expression.