Bitterly Sweetly (Completed)

Chapter Twenty-one : The Worm of Quest

After Max had left her befuddled with the painkillers, it took a very long time for her to recover from the surprise. And when she got over the surprise, she found herself becoming more and more confused with each passing second. She ate her pasta, washed the dishes, and cleaned the kitchen as much as possible in her exhausted state. And during the whole time, her eyes barely ceased staring at the white bottle that still sat on the kitchen counter—like a snake wearing a joker's clothing.

He noticed more than she thought he did.

But if that was the case, why couldn't he notice and realize that she didn't deserve what he had made her go through? She didn't deserve to be blamed for everything and nothing and to be on the receiving end of his biased, immense anger and hatred. Opposing thoughts fought against each other, and she felt the beginning of a horrid headache drumming inside her skull.

Getting tired of trying to figure out the reason and intention behind his action, Sofia grabbed the bottle of painkillers and strode up the stairs, searching for that tall, confusing devil.

Debbie gave her the information earlier that Max had come home when the girl had just arrived. So that meant he was not home all night. Perhaps he had stayed at a friend's or somewhere, Sofia thought, considering how outraged he was.

Sighing, she brought back her thoughts to the present. Because Max couldn't be found in the master bedroom, the room he had so outrageously dropped her in last night.

But he should be somewhere in the house.

So, she went on to search all six rooms down the corridor.

She found him in the room exactly opposite to the master bedroom, by the deep voice that resounded from the room's bathroom as she unceremoniously pushed the door open.

Ah, so he was camping here.

She hesitated for a couple of moments before nervously wrapping her knuckles on the wooden surface. And he came out of the bathroom in a long robe.

Seriously!

She had thought of Max as a towel wearer—like those cheeky, hunky heroes from movies, always ready to show off their assets. But that was not the case with him in real.

Who knew that the brute could be classic?

And he was talking on the phone.

The blasted man takes his phone in the shower as well. It must be waterproof. Sofia thought, unamused.

She overheard him saying,

"... no, it can't be possible. Dad hasn't found the chance to talk to us family even. His schedule is really hectic over there in London..."

Sofia had to knock a second time to grab his attention.

"I don't need them," her voice was calm and collected as she spoke, but that was precisely the opposite of what she was feeling inside. And what she felt inside was a bloody endless amount of confusion and questions.

After muttering a hasty goodbye to whoever he was talking to, Max lowered his phone. He had just opened his mouth to say or ask something to her, but he was rendered speechless when she ran out of patience and began striding over to him.

It needed to be stated crystal clear that she didn't need any painkillers. Not from him.

Steeling herself, she grabbed his wrist to thrust the bottle into his free hand. But she was in for a shock when he suddenly hissed when she did just that. Right then, she saw the knuckles—covered in painful-looking red and blue bruises. The back of his hand looked a little swollen.