Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love

Has she gone bonkers because of Maxwell? Now she's sleepwalking or what?

After freshening up, she made a beeline for the doc's office, just to make sure Maxwell was all good; then she zipped through the discharge process. "Are you heading home on your own, or should I give Jason a ring to pick you up?"

Propped up against the bed, Maxwell had his lips curved into a smile. "The doc gave me the green light to check out?"

‘That little scratch on your forehead already received far more attention than it deserved, with you having stayed overnight at the hospital.’

But in order to speed up the troublemaker's exit, Rosemary bit her tongue on the snarky comeback, by relaying the doc's orders verbatim: "Yep, keep the wound dry, lay off booze and spicy food."

It's winter, so not washing hair for four or five days won't turn him into a stink bomb, but for a clean freak like Maxwell, it's a real test of willpower.

Maxwell, all lazy-like, says, "But I'm still feeling a bit woozy upstairs."

"So, what's your brilliant idea?" Rosemary frowned, eyeing him like a hawk and sensing Maxwell was up to no good with his sneaky ways.

"Move back to Meadowlark Retreat."

"Not happening," she shot back without a second thought.

Maxwell played the sympathy card. "No staff at home, no one to even pour me a glass of water. Surely you don't want me to go back to the old manor with this and have Wendy look after me, do you?"

Rosemary was merciless. "I'm not pouring water for you, and do not count on any other kind of help. As for going back to the manor." She flashed Maxwell a wickedly insincere grin. "Be my guest. She's your mom. If you're not worried about giving her a heart attack, why should I care? I didn't build the Divine Grace Chapel, after all."

She had been craving some late-night grub last night, and now she was starving, like her stomach was stuck to her spine. She didn't have the energy to waste on him anymore.

"If you wanna stay put here, that's cool. I'll hire a nurse for you. Man, I'm such a good Samaritan."

That last bit was just her patting herself on the back.

This place is a private hospital, with more beds than patients. As long as you've got the cash, you could stay till the cows come home.

Maxwell was fuming. "Rosemary, where do you think you're going? I'm starving!"

"Did I kidnap the chef or blow up the hospital cafeteria? If you're hungry, go downstairs and eat. Look at the bad habits I've let you get into."

For three years, whether it was ordering takeout or cooking herself, Rosemary had always served it up to him on a silver platter. Now they were talking divorce, and he still expected her to wait on him hand and foot like an ancestor?

Men – give 'em an inch, and they'll take a mile!

Stepping out of the hospital, Rosemary hailed a cab straight home.

As she's a bit peculiar about her sleeping space, she had a rough night. Therefore, she grabbed sandwich at the supermarket, planning to just slurp something down and catch up on sleep.

She didn't expect to step out of the elevator and see Maxwell standing right at her door.

Wasn't this guy supposed to be heading home or back to the Templeton Group to work?

"What are you doing here?"

"If you're here, why wouldn't I be? I'm injured and need care. You're my wife; it's your duty to look after me."

Was he here for a nanny service?

Rosemary couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity. "Now you remember you have a wife. When you were busy stuffing money and resources into Your Sweetheart's hands, you didn't think of that, did you?"

She unlocked her door, and turned around with a fierce glare. "You’re leaving or not? If not, I'm about to get physical."

Maxwell's expression darkened; he'd been looking worse for wear since last night. "Sweetheart?"

Rosemary rolled her eyes. "Your dear Miss Victoria."

He frowned. "I never gave her money."

"Oh."

Whether he did or didn't, Rosemary couldn't care less. But given Ms. Temple's pride, if she was willing to take Maxwell's money, she wouldn't have rejected the easy path with him, and insisted instead on going abroad to build her own status, to earn Pearl's approval, and to stand proudly by his side.

But all that was none of Rosemary's concern now. She just wanted to eat and catch some Z's.

Maxwell wedged his hand to stop the closing door and strode in.

His eyes scanned the apartment.

Though Martin never lived here, the decor was all his taste; even the knick-knacks on the table were somewhat reminiscent of him. Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

The ornament Rosemary used to whack Maxwell's head with last night was still on the floor, one of Martin's old favorites; the dried blood on it turned dark red, but still visibly there.

Maxwell glanced at it coldly and kicked it over to the trash can.

"When are you planning to move out from Martin's place?"

Rosemary was changing her shoes, oblivious to the gesture. "I paid rent, and why should I move?"

Then she just ignored Maxwell.

If he insisted on staying, she couldn't stop him. Better save her energy.

"You think your little rent impresses Martin?"

Rosemary didn't respond, but just sat down spacing out while waiting for her food.

Maxwell's tone was stiff. "I'm a patient, and you're just gonna fob me off with noodles?"

"Nope," he seemed pleased with her answer until she continued, "These are for me. You want some, make your own."

Maxwell was speechless.

He remembered back at Meadowlark Retreat, even though he never ate what she cooked, Rosemary would still whip up a full meal. Now she wouldn't even spare an extra cup of noodles – talk about a downgrade.

Maxwell clenched his teeth and sarcastically asked, "You treat Martin like this?"

"He's not as shameless as you, and he doesn't come begging for food."

Rosemary lifted the lid and started chowing down on her noodles. Maxwell, who always turned his nose up at such fare, was now actually feeling peckish. But she just kept on eating, ignoring him completely.

After finishing her noodles, Rosemary hit the sack for a nap, leaving Maxwell to fend for himself.

She slept like a log, only to be woken up in the afternoon by a call from Martin: "Rosemary, remember I mentioned needing your help to appraise a family heirloom for my granddad? You free tonight?"

"Yeah, sure."

After setting the meeting spot, Rosemary got out of bed and started to freshen up.

Maxwell was no longer in the living room. She didn't pay it any mind though; it would've been weirder if he'd been parked there for hours on end.

When she headed out with her toolbox in hand, she reached for her keys and nada. Zilch.

Damn it, that bastard Maxwell made off with the front door key!