Methods to Tame My Beastly Husband — Chapter 242. Much less Responsible (1)

Raphael had not left the mansion since. He wandered outdoors Annette’s door, stressed as a trustworthy hound. Generally he would clench his enamel when he heard her coughing, or moaning with ache.

He didn’t perceive himself.

After a while, her wracking coughs turned to sobs. The sound was muffled, as if her face was buried in a pillow, however Raphael couldn’t stand listening to it. He felt like he was dropping his thoughts.

Lastly, he opened her bed room door, and Annette lifted her face, wiping away her tears. Her face was flushed, as if she had a fever. Raphael noticed this impatiently after which grabbed a moist towel from the basin beside the mattress.

“Lie down,” he ordered.

“Please name a maid,” Annette replied. “You don’t must…”

“Lie down!” Raphael repeated, louder. He didn’t know find out how to coax or negotiate, solely to dominate, and Annette’s eyes full of tears.

“I–I imply…there aren’t any maids outdoors,” he stammered involuntarily. “So lie down. I’ll clear you up…”

Not even he knew what he was attempting to say, so he stopped attempting to persuade her with phrases. Reaching out an arm, he laid her down, and used the moist towel to wipe down her face, neck, and limbs.

It solely confused Annette. There was a large hole of affection between them, and he or she was deeply uncomfortable with him. She stared at him as he washed her.

Why? Why now?

His manly face was lovely, however unreadable. She couldn’t guess what he was pondering, after which she winced because the moist towel chafed her delicate pores and skin.

Normally, it was the maids that tended her, and he or she didn’t perceive why it harm her. However then she glanced on the moist towel and realized what was mistaken. The towel in Raphael’s large hand was bone dry. He had wrung it out so onerous, all of the water was gone.

“Hahaha…”

Raphael scowled. He thought she was laughing at his inexperience, however he would ignore it for now, if it meant she stopped crying. She appeared a bit of extra snug.

Annette watched his again as he put recent sheets on the mattress. On the nightstand, the medication he had introduced her gently steamed.

It wasn’t simply that she couldn’t eat. She had not correctly taken her drugs both due to her broken insides. The final time she had drunk that drugs, she had vomited throughout Raphael. The reminiscence of that humiliating second prompted her to inform him,

“You don’t have to do this. Don’t fear about me.”