Love Is Blind, I’m Not Chapter 08

Harris stood in the living room, a cold dread spreading through his veins.

Nicole’s confused words shattered the illusion he’d clung to, leaving nothing but raw, unbearable truth.

When he didn’t answer, Nicole spoke again. “Harris… did you think I was the one who took care of you for those two years?”

Harris’s throat tightened. No sound escaped. He simply ended the call.

Silence filled the room, only broken by his ragged breathing.

He stared at the photo on the coffee table, reeling from the impossibility of it.

How could it have been Felicity? The woman who’d chosen three million dollars over him without hesitation?

The gold-digger who’d stalked him for five years, then agreed to disappear for fifty thousand to settle her loan? How could she be the gentle, careful caregiver who’d tended him for two years?

It was impossible.

He denied it again in his head, forcing himself to disregard the thought. Yet his mind remained in turmoil.

Eventually he pulled up his contacts and dialed Dr. Hale, his attending physician from years before.

The phone rang a long while before it was picked up. Harris’s voice came out rough and hoarse.

“Dr. Hale, this is Harris Parker. I need to ask you. Back when I was hospitalized and blind three years ago—what was the name of the person who stayed by my side the whole time?”

Dr. Hale paused, trying to recall. “That was years ago… I don’t remember her full name. I think her last name was Carlisle, a young girl.”

Harris gripped his phone tight. “Felicity Carlisle?”

“Yes! That’s her!” Dr. Hale’s memory clicked into place. “That young girl was incredibly thorough in her care.”

“I remember it vividly. She badly scalded her wrist testing the temperature of your oatmeal. I was the one who prescribed burn ointment for her.”

“And every morning, four or five a.m., she would go down to the hospital kitchen to cook your oatmeal so you would eat. Her devotion was remarkable.”

A deafening roar filled his ears, and all surrounding sound faded away.

He suddenly recalled those two years shrouded in total darkness. On nights when he’d flown into rages and knocked over bowls of oatmeal, the gentle hands that calmed him bore that rough scar across the wrist.

He also thought of the persistent unease he’d felt being with Nicole all this time.

Nicole didn’t know where to press for pain relief, couldn’t make the oatmeal correctly…

He’d written that strange feeling off as his imagination. He’d never guessed he’d misidentified his caregiver from the very beginning.

In that instant, Felicity’s face, always stubborn and quietly enduring, flooded his mind.

His heart clenched sharply, as though the foundation beneath him had collapsed.