My Flirtacious Husband

Chapter 202

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Chapter 202 Burden

“I’ll do it myself,” Patrick said, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

Genevieve looked up at him with amusement. “We’ve been living in the same room for days. You’re

telling me you’re embarrassed now?”

Patrick was afraid that if they had stayed in separate rooms and someone were to attack them at night,

no one would be able to protect her in time.

In the end, he gave in and took off his shirt obediently.

Patrick had been calm and collected in the car earlier, so Genevieve had believed in his words when he

said he was slightly injured.

However, when she saw the countless wounds and scars on his slender body, she couldn’t help

gasping in shock. There were even cuts resulting from knives. She stared at the injuries, and a lump

began to form in her throat.

“Does it hurt?” She reached out and gently touched the wounds.

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“These are just scratches. We could break several bones during our military training, and it hurt much

more than this,” Patrick said. He wasn’t trying to console her, as he was just speaking the truth.

“Patrick…” Genevieve did not know what to say.

Patrick had run off with her and joined her in being wanted by the police. If it wasn’t for Patrick, she

would have gone through harsh interrogations at the police station a few days ago and would have

probably gone to jail.

“Don’t cry, Genev.” There was still dried blood on Patrick’s hands, and he didn’t want to dirty her face.

“I told you I would protect you. I am only keeping my promise. Besides, as your friend, I can’t stand

seeing Armand and the others tricking you like that. I don’t want my promises to become a burden to

you. You understand?”

“Mm.” Genevieve nodded.

She crouched before Patrick’s bed, then covered a cotton bud in alcohol to clean his wounds.

Once that was done, she applied medicine to them and bandaged them with gauze.

Patrick sat still, not daring to move as he stared out the window. He was even holding his breath the

whole time.

A moment later, he couldn’t help but look down at the woman who was cleaning his wounds.

He could feel a slight pain every time the cotton bud covered in alcohol touched his wounds, but her

gentleness seemed to have overshadowed the pain.

There wasn’t a part of him that hadn’t gotten hurt back when he was in the military academy. He would

be in agony even when he was taking small, shallow breaths if he was seriously injured.

Back then, either the military doctors would take care of his injuries, or he would have to take care of

them himself.

But now, there was someone who would cry for him and treat his wounds.

Her tears softened his heart.

The owner of the hostel Genevieve booked was a young couple. They had renovated their marital

home into a hostel and decorated the insides such that it resembled a cozy home. There was also a

kitchen.

Genevieve wanted to pay the owners so that she could use the ingredients in the fridge.

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Since she was in disguise, she looked like a woman in her thirties with suntanned skin.

The only thing that seemed bright about her were her eyes.

The owner, Agnes, thought that she came from poverty and took pity on her. She told Genevieve to use

whatever she wanted, and when she saw that Genevieve didn’t know how to kill and clean fish, she

lent her a helping hand.

Nausea roiled in her stomach when she smelled the fish, and she quickly ran to the trash can nearby to

throw up.

“I’m sorry,” Genevieve said. She quickly gargled her mouth, her face full of guilt. “I’ve been riding in a

car all morning today, and it wasn’t properly ventilated. I haven’t been feeling well.”

“I see.” Agnes suppressed her doubts and ask kindly, “Should I cook up something for you?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve already troubled you enough.”

“All right, then.”

Genevieve made a simple fish stew, then prepared two bowls of pasta before bringing everything to the

room.

“I don’t really know how to cook, so just make do with this,” she said as she handed Patrick a fork. “I’ll

bring you out for something better at night.”

“It doesn’t matter even if it tastes bad. I’m fine as long as you made the food,” Patrick said.

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