Chapter 45

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A/n: I changed the title of the previous chapter if ever you'll get confused.

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A week and a half had slipped like a flash. I'm doing much better now compared to what I am and probably what I looked like a couple days ago. Although I spent my days just in the house, less the time we went out to the doctor, it is most of the time, Cate is just taking care of me every single day.

The wound is slowly healing. The bruises were fading, and the pain was becoming more bearable. We found ourselves in a daily routine — Cate changing my bandage while eating, cold compressing in my bruises while watching a TV show, or just... lounging around together.

Mia would visit when she could, which actually only happened thrice, but the other day she came with Mrs. Jones and Asher. Her mother was worried that I kinda got scolded for not telling her sooner, but knowing her, she just simply cared for me.

Then, Cate already told me she's trying to look for Cedrick, the same way we've been trying to look for whoever stalks us that is, we both think, that the same person who might have helped Cedrick get out. For days of constant update, we always received the same reply, saying, 'Still looking for him, but we're trying our best. Keep safe."

If I'm being honest, I don't want her to look for him anymore.

I mean, I know very well she wants me — us to be safe, I know how Cate has been determined about it and I do see it, appreciate what she's doing but also... I feel more unsettled as the day passes by knowing he is still out there, who might be planning their next move to threaten us again. I don't worry about mine, but I'm worried they will come to Cate and hurt her the next time.

I know we both have different opinions, different ways to protect each other. We might even fight about him again, though, I hope not. Especially when I finally tell Cate what we could possibly do next.

But right now, here in the living room, I'm more focused on cleaning my table while Cate cleans my dusty shelves where most of the books and other things I keep are messily scattered on the floor.

"Love, I'm gonna take the bathroom after this," I said while rubbing the wet towel over the dirty table, "And please don't even try to protest! My back is okay."

Cate's response was an absent-minded, "Yeah, go, yeah," as if her attention was elsewhere.

I smiled at myself, finally getting her to agree with me. In curiosity to see what she's so busy at, I glanced over at her, and I noticed she was sitting on the floor while her back was on me.

With knitted eyebrows, I asked Cate, "What are you doing?"

She didn't answer me, instead, I heard a chuckle coming from her. Another curiosity built in, so I approached her this time. And there it was, my album in her hands. She had found it, and Cate's laughter was directed at a picture of my seven-year-old self sporting a goofy face in front of the camera.

"That's not what we're supposed to be doing," I told her while covering it using my hands.

She laughed and gazed at me with a happy twinkle in her eyes. "You were such a cutie! Why haven't I seen this before?"

"Because I'm a big embarrassment," I said and tried grabbing the album from her, "Common, we have lots of cleaning to do. I haven't started in the bathroom yet."

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