The bathroom door forcefully flew open, startling Olivia, who was picking up the last strands of her hair. Watching him nervously, she said, "Hey—"

Before she could finish, her eyes were attacked by the sight of Ethan's bare, muscular chest. Even though they had spent countless nights together in the past, it made her uncomfortable after not seeing him for over a year. She quickly averted her gaze.

Soon, the shadow he cast and his unique scent enveloped her as he approached. Olivia instinctively cowered and stared at him warily. "What are you doing?"

Ethan slowly bent over her, his deep, dark gaze eyes falling upon her as he asked, "You said you were sick. How sick?"

Olivia didn't know how to feel meeting his inquisitive gaze. His eyes were devoid of mockery, disdain, and aloofness; he genuinely wanted to know about her illness.

At this moment, Olivia was conflicted. She suddenly had a thought: if she told Ethan now, would he feel even the slightest bit guilty for what he had done