Whispers Turn to Whimpers: Could He Ever Change?

Caroline didn't bring up the previous topic, sticking to the usual casual conversations instead.

"It's getting a bit late today... Oh, the weather's turned chilly. Just walking over from my car, my face got all cold. Feel it, will you?"

As she spoke, she gently rubbed her cheek against Francis' palm.

Frank scrunched up his brows a bit. His fingers had a slight shake. His arm just kind of flopped down, yanking his hand back.

Caroline's heart raced. Was he deliberately avoiding her?

But she didn't let it show, instead saying considerately, "Arm got tired, didn't it? My fault, I shouldn't have."

Francis opened his mouth, trying to speak, but only a hoarse, indistinct sound came out.

Caroline understood immediately. She had been taking care of him for a while now and knew what he needed.

"Do you need to use the restroom? Just wait..." She was about to get up and head to the bathroom when Francis tugged at the hem of her dress, frowning and slowly shaking his head.

She understood what he meant, yet she didn't.

"Francis, I'm your fiancée. It's pretty much like we're already married, just without the paper to prove it. Let me help, okay?"

Francis just frowned deeper, shaking his head again.

Caroline sighed and touched her forehead, "Alright, I'll call the caregiver for you."

He had two caregivers, one male and one female.

Caroline got up, feeling a bit stifled.

She just couldn't understand.

Why was Francis acting like this? Ever since he woke up, he'd been avoiding getting too close to her.

Daily activities like washing his face or drinking water were fine, but when it came to more personal tasks like using the restroom or full-body washes, he only wanted the caregivers.

Why? They were supposed to be the closest to each other.

Maybe he didn't want her to see him when he was so vulnerable? That was the only comforting thought Caroline could cling to.

Since Francis couldn't speak yet, they couldn't even argue about it.

---

A week later.

Sherilyn had carefully gone through the script, jotting down her thoughts and interpretation of the female characters.

She handed a thick stack of papers to Caleb.

"Mr. Marshall, please have a look."

Caleb was surprised at the volume. "This much?"

"Yes..." Sherilyn was a bit embarrassed and not very confident. "It's my first time writing, I just wrote whatever came to mind."

"That's okay."

Caleb appreciated her effort, "Having this attitude is already the first step to success—I'll get back to you after I've read it."

"Okay, Mr. Marshall."

Caleb ended up quite satisfied with her work.

But casting for a film wasn't just his decision to make. He was the director, but there were producers and financiers above him.

The main person in charge and the one funding the project were the real power players.

Moreover, casting a newcomer was always a risk.

After wrapping up for the day, Blake sought out Sherilyn.

"Sherilyn, Mr. Marshall asked me to tell you, tomorrow night, you'll join us for dinner." Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

Before Sherilyn could ask for details, Blake winked at her.

"Right now, you're the only female role they're considering. Don't be nervous meeting the producer and financier, Mr. Marshall and I will be there."

So, it was a dinner with the big bosses.

Sherilyn felt an inexplicable resistance but nodded anyway. "Got it, Blake."

The next day.

Eager to impress the top brass, Sherilyn picked out a coffee-colored dress that was both classy and flattering.

She arrived on time at the Platinum Pearl Club to meet Blake, following the address he had sent her to avoid any delays.