Find me in your labyrinth (Stella and Jonathan) novel Chapter 2524

Eugene’s gaze was unwavering. “Sylvia, I don’t care about your past. You say I fell for an illusion, but that’s not true—I love the person I see right in front of me.”

On the surface, she seemed gentle, yet she always kept people at arm’s length. Some called her cold, but he’d seen her walk away from a lucrative deal rather than put her employees in harm’s way.

He ached for her wariness toward others, because he knew she must have been hurt before. He admired her kindness, and even more, the way she still fought to protect others, wounds and all.

He loved her—deeply, helplessly, without escape.

Sylvia felt drained. “After everything I’ve said, why are you still so stubborn?”

“Is it stubborn to love someone?” Eugene replied, his striking eyes full of tenacity. “You love someone you can never be with—what do you call that?”

Sylvia’s brow tightened. She stopped arguing, stood up, and went to put away the first aid kit.

Panic flickered across Eugene’s face. He jumped up and hurried after her, his voice anxious as he tried to explain, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you—I just hate seeing you hurt.”

Sylvia finished putting the kit away and turned back with a gentle smile. “I’m not angry, and you don’t need to worry about me. I told you, I like my life the way it is. I have financial freedom, my health, a fulfilling routine—what’s there to feel sorry for?”

Eugene just looked at her, silent.

She started toward the guest bedroom. “The sheets in there are fresh, and there are new toiletries in the bathroom. Try to get some sleep.”

Eugene hesitated. “I’m not really tired. Can we talk a little longer?”

Sylvia smiled. “When you’re better, we can stay up late with a bottle of wine and talk all night. But right now, you need rest—there’s a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

He took her words as a sign she cared, and some of the ache inside him eased. “You’re right. It is late. You should get some rest too.”

“If you feel any pain or discomfort during the night, wake me up. Don’t ignore it and let things get worse,” Sylvia reminded him.

“I promise.” Eugene’s eyes softened, and he gave a small, grateful smile.

Back in the guest room, Eugene glanced at his shirt from the night before—stained with wine and blood. There was no way he could wear it again. He brought it out. “How long would it take to wash and dry this?”

Sylvia frowned thoughtfully. “With the dryer, at least an hour.”

Eugene shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to make do for now.”

“Hold on, let me look for something.” Sylvia excused herself and went to her own room.

She opened the farthest door in her wardrobe. Inside hung a row of men’s shirts and pants—identical in style, crisply ironed, most of them brand new.

They were Gabriel’s size. They’d be a bit big on Eugene, but better than the wrinkled, dirty shirt he’d been holding.

But the moment her hand brushed against one of the shirts, Sylvia abruptly pulled back.