C3 He Liked It!

Husband?

That word rolls off the tongue so easily.

Evelyn was taken aback, offering no reply.

Leslie noticed her silence, his lips curving into a teasing smile as he asked, "What's the matter? Don't you want to?"

Despite being confined to a wheelchair, the number of suitors eager to marry him was endless.

Evelyn remained silent, her brow furrowed in thought.

"I've looked into your background," Leslie stated calmly.

Background?

He had checked her out!

Clearly, Leslie was no ordinary man.

Evelyn leaned back against the headboard, fixing her gaze on him. "You want to marry me?"

"Yes," Leslie replied, his eyes narrowing, his voice serene.

"Why?" she pressed.

"Because I want to," he answered simply, his deep gaze revealing a forthright sincerity.

He was a man of few words, each one precious.

Evelyn wasn't naive; she didn't buy his smooth talk.

So she reconsidered and asked, "Do you like me for being plain?"

Back home, she was the unloved sister, the neglected daughter.

She made herself look unattractive to carve out a space for herself in her family.

She never bothered to dress up.

Leslie remained silent.

The air hung heavy between them.

Then, Leslie recited her background to her.

"Evelyn, 19, a sophomore studying history. Your father, stepmother, and sister have all conspired to push you into marrying an old man..."

He paused there, his gaze icy as he looked at her.

And he was right.

She scrimped and saved for her education, working odd jobs to make ends meet.

She had also turned down her family's arranged marriage for the sake of her Prince Charming.

But now, Prince Charming had rejected her.

Yet the pressure to marry from her family persisted.

Evelyn stared at him, bewildered. "What are you after?"

Leslie sat with an imposing presence.

He uttered two words with gentle firmness: "I like you."

He had been injured, his legs were broken from then on.

In his darkest hours, there was someone who sent him messages for three solid months.

Without fail, they arrived on time.

"Don't you find me too plain?" Evelyn pressed on.

"And you? Do you despise me for being... disabled?" The smile on Leslie's face slowly extinguished as he spoke the final words.

"But you're really handsome," Evelyn chimed in, breaking his train of thought.

"Indeed." He pressed his lips together in a tacit acknowledgment.

"But I'm so unrefined."

"Oh."

"I drink, smoke, get into fights, have a nasty temper, and I even grind my teeth in my sleep..."

"Oh."

"Uncle, any reaction here?"

"I'm not put off by it."

"You win."

Evelyn conceded.

She wasn't foolish. The man before her was attractive and dressed in designer labels. It would be odd if she didn't marry him.

Better to marry this dashing uncle than be coerced into a marriage with some decrepit old man by her family.

At the very least, she didn't find uncle's presence objectionable.

...

They had barely stepped out of the hotel when they were swarmed by reporters.

Evelyn, pushing Leslie's wheelchair, looked utterly bewildered.

What was happening?

Suddenly, reporters closed in.

Questions rained down on them.

"Mr. Andrews, who is the young lady with you?"

"Mr. Andrews, you were with her last night. Is she your girlfriend?"

"Mr. Andrews, about the rumors of your impotence, are they true?"

"Miss, could you please respond?"

...

Impotence?

Out of the flurry of questions, that word struck Evelyn.

Was this not a direct insult to uncle?

Her patience snapped, and her fury ignited.

"It's you who are impotent! How blissful my uncle's private life is, is none of your business! Keep spouting nonsense, and I'll sue you for defamation!"