Scum Daddy Dreams Of Stealing My Mommy!
Chapter 302: This "Physiology" is Not That "Physiology

Chapter 302: Chapter 302: This "Physiology" is Not That "Physiology

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Amelia was in the shower when she realized why her waist had been aching faintly.

The side of her waist had likely been forcefully pulled by the seatbelt during the airplane crash landing. The area was extensively reddened, bruised, and swollen—truly concerning at first glance.

However, she could move and bend over, meaning her bones weren’t injured. It was most likely just soft tissue bruising.

A bit of ointment would fix it up in no time.

She spent a long while lingering in the bathroom, assuming the man had surely left by now. After putting on her underwear and a bathrobe, she opened the door and stepped out.

Unexpectedly, the moment she looked up, her gaze fell into a pair of deep, waiting eyes.

"Why haven’t you left yet?" she asked sharply, instinctively pulling her robe tighter.

Christopher looked at her reaction and chuckled in a mix of exasperation and amusement. "What do you take me for?"

"......" She immediately recognized her overreaction, flushing in embarrassment.

"Even if I had such thoughts, I certainly don’t have the capacity for them right now. You can rest assured."

"I am reassured," she huffed as she walked toward the bed, muttering under her breath, "But I’m just not used to sleeping with someone next to me, especially if it’s a man..."

Christopher turned his wheelchair and moved toward the bed.

"Then how exactly did you get through our three years of marriage? If I recall... While our relationship wasn’t great, we never slept in separate beds. In fact, each night was quite... intimate, except for..."

"Christopher!" Amelia’s face flushed as she urgently interrupted him, glaring. "Didn’t you say you haven’t remembered the past?"

"I haven’t," he replied, "But... I read that novel."

"Novel?" Amelia froze for a moment, then quickly grasped his meaning. "Lucas King mentioned this to you, didn’t he? You even went out of your way to read that novel?"

"Yeah, it’s pretty well-written. After reading it, those blank spots in my memory seemed to fill in. Lucas said you wanted the author to delete it, but I think... it should continue instead. Consider it a memento of our youth."

She rolled her eyes at him in disbelief. "If you want to read, have them write something just for you privately. Why does it need to be posted online for the whole world to see? I don’t want to be a bullseye for public opinion again."

Christopher stopped in front of her and, as he always did naturally, reached for her hand, holding it in his palm. His low, warm voice softened as he spoke, "I understand your concerns. I’ve looked closely, and in truth, most of the comments are blessings or criticisms aimed at the male lead."

"Lucas explained to me that back then, your intention was to focus the public’s gaze on me as the contentious point and restore your reputation. You were also hoping the truth would come to light, so others would stop misunderstanding you."

"Now, things have indeed unfolded just as I planned then. Therefore, I won’t let the author delete the novel."

After delivering his explanation, he lowered his gaze to the delicate hand captured in his palm. His thumb brushed across the back of her hand as his voice grew deeper. "Consider it my way of making amends. Please, give me this chance, alright?"

Amelia sat in her bathrobe, though she had tied the sash tightly around her waist. The neckline of the robe was large, so unless she sat upright with her back straight and the fabric stretched taut, her chest would remain exposed.

If she slouched or let her shoulders drop, her chest area would open up... leaving her vulnerable.

This forced her to sit with her spine straight, but the tension pulled at the bruises on her waist, making it uncomfortable.

Frowning lightly, she glanced at the man’s deeply affectionate expression, unsure how to respond for a moment.

If they were emotionally in sync, hearing these words would surely leave her feeling shy yet moved.

But the truth was...

Although their relationship had improved slightly, it hadn’t reached the point of repairing the damage. Such deeply romantic gestures only made her feel weighed down.

"Christopher... honestly, you don’t have to do all of this." She hesitated, unsure how to address his demeanor—a mix of humility and self-effacement.

"Christopher."

"Hmm?" She was taken aback by the sudden interjection.

"Our relationship isn’t so distant that you need to use my full name every time you address me, is it? When you were younger, you used to call me Brother Christopher; now that you’re older, if you feel strange calling me that, just use ’Christopher’ or ’Hart’."

"..." Amelia found herself flustered under his intensely passionate gaze, nervously avoiding his eyes as she mumbled, "It’s all the same—just a name."

"It’s not the same. People who are close to each other should use terms of endearment."

Her mind retorted: Who’s close with you?

Her lips, however, remained pursed, refusing to answer.

It was getting late, and Christopher was visibly struggling to stay upright. His eyes drifted toward the bed as he explained his reason for staying: "I’ll sleep with you tonight. If you have nightmares and wake up in the middle of the night, you’ll feel reassured knowing someone’s beside you."

Amelia’s head shot up in shock, her words coming out in a jumble. "That’s... not—not necessary! You’ve been working hard; you should rest properly tonight. Don’t worry about me, I... I’m completely fine."

Christopher watched her flustered reaction, seeing how her eyes darted everywhere but at him. Chuckling softly, he teased her, "You’re already a mom, yet you still blush and shy away like you’re a teenager."

"What? I—I do?"

"Your face is red."

She pulled her hand back abruptly, covering her cheeks. "It’s... it’s the hot water from the shower that’s making it red."

Seeing her distress and adorable awkwardness, Christopher’s heart stirred with affection. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and kiss her deeply.

But he couldn’t. He feared she might resist, that it might scare her or backfire entirely. So instead, he suppressed the urge.

"Alright, it’s late, let’s sleep. Help me get to bed." He raised his hand, clearly determined to stay for the night.

Amelia frowned and stared at him defensively. "Christopher, don’t be ridiculous! There are other rooms available; why insist on squeezing in here with me?"

"Amelia... The two of us are pretty much equally helpless right now. You need emotional comfort, and I need physical care—sleeping together makes it easier for us to look out for each other."

"Phys—physical care?!" Amelia’s immediate reaction latched onto the "physical" aspect, her eyes going wide with alarm!

He was paralyzed from the waist down and needed "physical care"! What did he mean? That she should... initiate? That’s impossible!

"Christopher, can you stop with this sleazy behavior already? Ugh..." She furiously stood up, only to pull at the bruise on her waist, wincing sharply, reaching to clutch her side.

Christopher noticed her pained reaction, his gaze dropping instantly toward her waist. He reached out without hesitation. "What happened to your waist? Are you hurt?"

As he spoke, his hands moved swiftly, tugging open her robe.

"Hey—don’t!" Amelia tried to dodge, but the bed behind her blocked her escape. She managed to shift slightly, but his quick action still landed its mark—he pulled up the hem of her robe.

Fortunately, she had her underwear on, or else...

"Why didn’t you mention you were hurt?" Seeing the bruised and swollen marks on her waist, Christopher’s expression darkened instantly. His voice carried both anger and concern. "I asked you so many times, but you kept denying you were injured. Waist injuries can’t be taken lightly!"

Amelia grabbed at her robe’s belt firmly, terrified that he might undo it completely.

Her long, fair legs were fully exposed to his view now, making her so uneasy that goosebumps prickled across her skin.

"It’s probably just caused by the seatbelt during the crash—it’s not even a serious external injury. Some ointment will take care of it..."

She tried pulling her robe down to cover her legs, but Christopher’s hands pushed it aside again. With a swift tug, he rotated her body slightly to check for other injuries. "Don’t move around—let me check if there are other bruises."

"Hey, wait—what do you think you’re doing?!"

Amelia couldn’t believe it. Even though Christopher couldn’t move his lower body, his upper body strength was immense. With just a pull and turn, she wasn’t just exposing one leg—now everything below her waist was in plain view.

"Cut it out! You’re being...!" she stammered, mortified, feeling her entire body flush red as his focus remained unwaveringly on checking for more injuries.

Her protests fell on deaf ears.

"Your knee is bruised too. Does it hurt?" he asked, touching her knee gently.

She reflexively pulled back her leg, trying to keep her voice steady. "It doesn’t... doesn’t hurt. I can’t feel it."

"What about your upper body?" After inspecting her lower half, he pivoted her back toward him and lifted his gaze, his voice filled with concern.

Amelia immediately clutched at the neckline of her robe, afraid he’d try to peel it away further. She shook her head fervently, like a drumbeat. "No injuries at all! I checked in the shower earlier—everything’s fine."

"Are you certain?" His eyes rose slightly, deep with emotion, filled with worry and longing.

"Yes, I’m positive!"

She was fidgety, clutching at herself, radiating discomfort as her ears turned a deep shade of crimson. Christopher’s lips curled into a slow, devastatingly charming smile. His gaze could disarm anyone. "You know... You don’t have to be so distant with me."

His tone was both sincere and teasing, as if he meant every word.

But Amelia caught the amusement flickering in his eyes and immediately realized his underlying mischief.

This scoundrel!

Even after losing his memory, his shameless behavior hadn’t changed!

"We’re just ex-husband and ex-wife. I absolutely should keep my distance!" She shot back, pulling her robe tightly around herself, hurriedly retying the sash, and ensuring the neckline was securely fastened.

"You should... go back to your room to sleep! I’m going to bed now!"

"You must’ve misheard me."

"What do you mean?"

"I said what I meant—a promise is a promise. Tonight, I’m staying. Besides, this injury on your waist shouldn’t be overlooked. I’ll ask them to bring over some ointment for bruises. I’ll help you apply it."

She blinked in disbelief. "This is Dubai, not home. Where are you going to magically get bruise ointment from here?"

"Hmm..." Christopher chuckled softly. "In this world, as long as you have money, nothing’s impossible."

The remark drew an automatic rebuttal from Amelia: "Money can fix most problems, but it’s far from solving everything."

Understanding her deeper meaning, Christopher dropped the bravado in his tone, becoming serious. He nodded and replied thoughtfully, "True. Some things like family, love, and genuine sincerity can’t be bought."

"..." Not wanting to engage further on the topic, Amelia remained silent.

Thinking her silence signaled agreement to share the bed for the night, Christopher extended his hand again. "Help me get onto the bed."

Her eyes widened in exasperation. "You... It’s late, and the only thing on your mind is still your so-called physical needs!"

"Physical needs?" Christopher furrowed his brow in confusion. His handsome face froze briefly, utterly baffled. "What are you talking about? Did I hear you wrong?"

"Earlier... Didn’t you say that I need emotional comfort and you need physical care? That clearly sounded like your perverted way of putting things—how dare you deny it now?"

"I..." Now understanding her misunderstanding, Christopher found himself torn between laughing and crying. "When I said physical care, I was referring to my body—I can’t move my lower half, and I need to be turned over during the night. That’s what I meant. What did you think I meant by ’physical’?"

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