A marriage certificate possesses a certain kind of magic; once it's issued, the act of a man and a woman sleeping together becomes legal, ethical, and entirely justified.
Diana didn't say another word, calmly accepting William's request to sleep beside her.
Still, she wasn't quite used to it. Although the narrow cot barely accommodated two adults, William's presence was overwhelming. Even through the thin layers of their clothes, she could feel the constant heat radiating from his body—and more specifically, that unmistakable, territorial tension pressing against her.
Penelope had joked before about taking William to see a specialist, but thinking back, that was purely unnecessary worrying. The man's physical condition was staggering; even while just lying in a quiet embrace, he could instantly enter a "battle-ready" state.
But this was her grandmother's hospital room. Not far away, on a small bed, slept her elderly grandmother and her younger brother. Diana lay on her side, stiff as a board, even forcing her breathing to remain shallow. No matter how compliant she was being, she wasn't bold enough to "go to war" with him while her relatives were within earshot. Once things got heated, there would be no hiding the noise.
Just as Diana was chanting "inner peace" like a mantra, a large hand swept across her waist. It was calloused and firm, sliding down the curve of her hip with clear intent.
In the dead silence of the night, William's breathing grew heavy and thick with desire, sounding like the low growl of a predator.
"Why are you wearing trousers today?" his voice rasping with suppressed hunger.
He added suggestively, "Sleeping in trousers is... inconvenient."
Because the cot was a folding structure, it wasn't particularly sturdy; the slightest bit of pressure caused a piercing creak. William clearly realized this. His movements remained restrained, and he didn't toss or turn, but that hand lingered at the waistband of her jeans, searching for an opening.
The friction through the fabric actually stirred an odd sense of tingling. Diana was secretly relieved; she had worn these tight jeans specifically to make it easier to care for her grandmother, but now they served as her most reliable "armor."
Perhaps frustrated by his lack of progress, William tightened his grip and pulled her firmly into his chest.
Diana felt like a bowstring pulled to its limit, her nerves taut with tension.
Before she could protest, a puff of scalding breath hit her ear: "Miss Bell, your body is so stiff. Holding you feels like holding a frozen fish."
Diana was momentarily speechless, finally squeezing out: "...Mr. Knight, it's because you're holding me too tight."
"Uncomfortable?" William asked in a muffled voice.
It wasn't a matter of comfort; she was terrified that if she moved even an inch, his already high-strung body would lose its last shred of rationality.
"Could you loosen your grip a bit?" she tried to negotiate.
"Fine." Uncharacteristically agreeable, William retreated half an inch, giving her a little breathing room.
Diana took the opportunity to roll onto her back, trying to escape that direct, physical tension.
The bed was so narrow that their arms inevitably overlapped. Diana's slender arm ended up pinned beneath William's heavy, muscular bicep.
William's heart fluttered. To him, this girl felt like she was made of water—supple and soft right down to her bones. Diana's experience was the exact opposite; his arm felt like a block of iron, bruising her. She grumbled inwardly: Why are men so hard and bony everywhere?
"Still pinned down?" William noticed her discomfort immediately. He lifted his arm and let hers rest over him. "Is this better?"
"Yes," Diana exhaled in relief.
She shuffled as close to the edge of the bed as possible, trying to maintain a psychological barrier. As the night deepened and she realized William truly didn't intend to "attack" further, exhaustion finally won. Diana drifted into a deep sleep.
In her dreams, her guard dropped completely. Her stiff body turned soft and limber, curling up like a docile kitten.
The moonlight spilled through the window. William propped himself up on one elbow to watch her. Her lips were slightly parted, shimmering in the moonlight, and her long lashes fluttered occasionally. She looked like a pure, ethereal mermaid from a fairytale.
He watched her for a long time before finally letting out a helpless sigh and heading into the bathroom.
The next morning.
When Diana woke up, she realized both of her hands were tightly clutching William's arm, looking like a little miser guarding a gold bar.
She was dazed. When did she develop the habit of hugging his arm in her sleep?
Holding her breath, she carefully peeled her fingers away one by one. Seeing that William hadn't woken up yet, she patted her chest in relief. Thank goodness he didn't catch her.
She crept into the bathroom and turned on the tap to get ready.
However, William, who had been fast asleep a second ago, pushed the door open right behind her.
With a mouth full of toothpaste foam, Diana froze.
William stood beside her with perfect composure, reaching his long arm behind her back to grab the toothpaste. In the mirror, her petite frame was completely enveloped by his tall, commanding shadow.
Standing side-by-side, their movements were uncannily synchronized.
Diana felt flustered. Her movements grew hurried, the toothbrush making a frantic scrubbing sound against her teeth. She rinsed quickly and fled the bathroom as fast as she could.
A moment later, William emerged.
He pulled out a chair and sat down, his expression as serious as if he were negotiating a billion-dollar deal: "Your brushing technique is too violent. That horizontal scrubbing damages the gums. Be more gentle from now on."
Diana was at a loss for words, thinking, I only did that because you scared me.
Before she could argue, her phone pinged. She opened WhatsApp to find a message from William—a cartoon tutorial video on "How to Brush Your Teeth Correctly" meant for toddlers.
Diana stared at the animated character, laughing out of sheer frustration. "Oh, thank you so much."
William replied calmly, "You're welcome."
Just then, a lazy groan echoed in the room as Noah Bell finally ended his deep slumber.
He rubbed his eyes and sat up, his eyes widening when he saw William. "William! What are you doing here?"
William made a "shushing" gesture, nodding toward the hospital bed. Unfortunately, Noah's shout had already woken their grandmother.
William was the quickest, reaching the bed first to help her sit up.
"What time is it?" she asked softly.
"Eight o'clock," William replied.
Diana was stunned. William was a notorious workaholic who was usually at the office by six. Today, he had actually stayed until eight?
William glanced at her and explained, "I've arranged for a world-renowned psychiatric expert to come directly to the nursing home to consult on her case."
Diana felt something soft in her heart being gently tugged. Marriage required effort, and this feeling of having someone care for her family's health was far more powerful than any sweet talk.
"Mr. Knight, I'll go get breakfast," she offered, wanting to show her gratitude.
But before she could reach the door, William's assistant, Elias Slade, walked in carrying a variety of insulated food containers. The table was soon covered with a light, nutritious breakfast.
After the meal, the legendary expert arrived as promised.
Following a series of detailed tests and evaluations, the doctor established a rigorous recovery plan and promised to visit personally three times a week. Diana knew very well that doctors of this caliber usually had year-long waiting lists; to get him to make house calls, William must have pulled some serious strings in the east city.
Standing in the hallway, she looked at him earnestly. "Mr. Knight, thank you."
This time, William didn't say "you're welcome." He patted her head and said, "Don't mention it. Your grandmother is my grandmother too."