Crushed Affections (Dominic and Bella)
Chapter 363 Next Time, Can You Be Sweeter

Dominic still wasn't satisfied. As they lay together, practically bare before each other, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the "item" he had prepared in advance. He was ready for action.

Only then did Bella realize he had planned this all along. Her eyes misted over, and she protested tremblingly, "You're too much..."

He caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes and the faint redness at the tip of her nose.

With a low curse, he moved off her. "Are women made of glass or something? You start crying at the drop of a hat. How annoying."

Bella pulled the blanket around herself, cheeks flushed with irritation. "You're the annoying one! You're so annoying that I can't stand it!"

Dominic chuckled at her pouty, indignant expression. "Heh... Don't look at me like that. You're acting like some jilted lover. I didn't even do anything to you. Now, make us something to eat, and when you're done, handle whatever you need to. I'm taking a nap before I head out."

Huffing, Bella got dressed under the covers and then stomped off to the kitchen to make him breakfast.

At that moment, she would've loved nothing more than to sprinkle a little poison in his food just to get rid of him.

But as the pot began to steam and the warm aroma of food filled the kitchen, her resentment started to fade.

It seemed like he hadn't slept at all last night, only to show up here at dawn just to mess with her. That must have taken some effort.

With the chill still lingering in the air, she decided on something warm for breakfast. She finished cooking the pasta, set it on the table, and called toward the bedroom, "Breakfast is ready."

Dominic strolled out lazily, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Next time, could you throw in a little endearment?"

Bella forced a smile. "Dominic Miller, breakfast is ready."

Unbothered by her formal tone, he shrugged and dug into the pasta with unreserved satisfaction.

Bella finished tidying up and headed straight to the hospital. During her usual rounds, she happened to spot Simon preparing to be discharged.

By her calculations, Simon should've stayed a few more days for observation, but he insisted on leaving.

Bella didn't try to stop him. She handled the caregiver's pay, took care of the discharge paperwork, and covered the remaining medical expenses.

With her work done, the caregiver left, leaving Simon alone in the ward. He was walking with a limp, his face breaking out in a cold sweat from the pain. He looked truly pitiful.

The clothes he wore were old and faded, likely garments from years ago. Judging by his empty pockets, he didn't have a cent to his name.

Bella took out the little over a

thousand in Cash she had on her and held it out to him. "Here, it's all~~ I've got. After all these years, don't tell me you're down to having no one left to help you. Once you leave here, we're done. I'll get you a cab."

Simon looked at the cash in her

hand, his expression unreadable.

"No thanks. You've done more than enough. My wife and I have

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divorced, so I really am on my own now. I But I'll keep going. I guess this is karma catching up with me. I'll spend the rest of my life making amends."

Bella hadn't expected him to refuse the money. Given how rough things were for him-injured, out of work, and struggling to walk-she'd thought he'd take any help he could get.

But she didn't push it. Her relationship with Simon wasn't close enough for her to insist on giving him money.

He also declined her offer to get him

a cab, hobbling away on his own

His lonely figure, limping off with no one by his side, made him look almost like an elderly man with no family left.

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Even though he deserved what he got, Bella couldn't help feeling a pang of discomfort. But she didn't plan to do anything more.

If she showed compassion to Simon, then how could she face the memory of Dorothy, who had passed away?

Maybe this was just who she was. She was outwardly calm and indifferent, but she knew she'd be haunted by the image of Simon's retreating figure.

Every time she remembered it, her heart felt heavy. Perhaps it was that innate, unavoidable sense of "compassion" or "sympathy" bubbling up inside her.