329 Midnight Compromise
Chapter 329 Midnight Compromise
“Can we start tonight?” he asked.
“Tonight?”
Julius bowed his head until his hair brushed her shoulder, his voice raw with exhaustion. “I haven’t slept properly in days, Quinn. I won’t do anything–I just want one good night’s rest.”
“All right. Start tonight. But I don’t have your pajamas, so you’ll need to bring your own.”
Julius pulled out his phone and dialed without hesitation, his fingers moving like a man who had rehearsed this moment.
Fifteen minutes later, Fabian arrived, a sleek suitcase swinging from his hand.
“Mr. Whitethorn’s essentials and clothes,” Fabian announced, setting the case by the door.
At the threshold, Fabian pressed a small pill bottle into Quinn’s palm. “These are for Mr. Whitethorn. If he still can’t sleep here, give him these, no more than five tablets at once. Please, don’t let him exceed the dose.”
“Does he often take more than he should?” Quinn asked, eyeing the bottle.
She hadn’t realized Julius was already at the point where he needed medicine to help him sleep.
“When Mr. Whitethorn’s insomnia grows so fierce it rattles his nerves, he’ll sometimes swallow an extra tablet,” Fabian disclosed, his gaze flicking toward the closed bedroom door as though the very walls might overhear.
Quinn inclined her head, letting a wisp of hair fall forward, then brushed it back with a steady hand. “All right, I understand.”
After seeing Fabian to the door, Quinn lingered in the dim hallway, the pill bottle cool and unfamiliar against her palm. She crossed the threshold into the bedroom just as Julius emerged from the bathroom, steam curling around him like a fleeting veil.
Freshly washed and already dressed in silken nightclothes, he looked so achingly familiar that Quinn’s breath tripped, sending her back to the nights before everything had broken. Night after night, he had stepped out exactly like this–hair still damp, eyes soft, a quiet expectancy hovering between them. For one fragile heartbeat, she believed none of the hurt had happened.
Julius‘ attention snagged on the small amber bottle glinting in Quinn’s hand. “Fabian gave that to you?”
Quinn rotated the container between her fingers, the pills rattling like muted dice. “He was afraid you might still struggle to sleep while staying with me, so he left it–just in case.”
The label warned in crisp medical print that the medication was neither to be taken in excess nor relied upon for long stretches of nights.
Ignore the caution, and the body would rebel–liver and kidneys bearing the silent brunt of the cost. Raising her eyes from the warning, she asked, “When did you start taking these?”
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19.53 Wed, 20 Aug
Chapter 329 Midnight Compromise
The third day after you left,” Julius replied, each syllable falling like a stone into still water.
Quinn froze. That meant he had been leaning on the drug for at least half a month.
“You shouldn’t keep taking them. Too many will damage your kidneys and your liver,” she cautioned, the words as sharp as the chill crawling through her chest.
Julius stared at the floorboards as though they could solve his riddle. “If my body truly does fail, would it matter to you?”
Quinn lifted her gaze to meet his. “It would. Breakup or not, I still want you to take care of yourself.”
A quiet sigh slipped from her lips. She placed the bottle on the nightstand, the plastic click sounding louder than it should have.
“Julius, when I discovered you’d hidden the video of my brother, I hated you–hated that you didn’t tell me sooner, hated that you kept the truth from me, even resented you for not saving him that night. But on this trip to Doria, you stepped in for me again and again, and each of those moments is carved into my memory. So I don’t hold a grudge. I don’t hate you. I’m grateful, and naturally I want you to be healthy and safe.”
With nothing left to say, Quinn gathered her fresh clothes, inhaled, and slipped into the bathroom, leaving the door to click softly behind her.
Julius moved to the nightstand, staring down at the bottle as if it were an accomplice to his weakness. Her words had promised no blame, no hatred, yet they had not promised renewed love either, and the vacancy of that omission pressed against his ribs. If she truly wished for my peace, she would stay. Only beside her can I be safe.
He lifted his left hand and brushed his lips against the sandalwood bracelet. The murmur slipped out, no louder than a prayer. “Quinn, as long as you’re with me, I will never need these pills.”
The bracelet had been her gift to him.
Ever since, he had worn it faithfully, and on nights when sleep eluded him, he would kiss each bead, pretending his lips found hers instead.
Only then did the storm inside his skull quiet enough for a sliver of rest to slip through.
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