Chapter 78: Understood, Little Housekeeper
Galatea stood over Alaric, at a loss. Why had he come here after drinking too much? What was she supposed to do now?
“I’ll make you some hangover soup,” she said, preparing to leave the room.
But before she could take a step, Alaric’s hand shot out, grabbing hers. “Don’t go!” he commanded, his voice thick with drunkenness.
Galatea froze, her body jolting as if struck by an electric current. She tried to pull her hand away, but it was futile. Alaric’s grip was firm, and his eyes were closed in a deep, drunken slumber.
With no other choice, Galatea reluctantly sat down beside the bed. It was strange. She’d been the one lying in bed many times, whether it was due to illness or injury, but now it was Alaric who lay there. He looked so vulnerable, his usual commanding presence diminished by the effects of alcohol. His brow furrowed, his face marked by restless sleep, showing he was still in discomfort despite being unconscious.
She hadn’t expected to care this much for him, but after spending so much time together, she had started to see another side of him. He was responsible, just, and a devoted father.
She kept her hand still in his, unwilling to disturb his sleep, and waited for him to fall into a deeper slumber. Her mind wandered back to their recent interactions—how much he’d done for her, how his actions sometimes seemed to speak louder than words. She had once thought he disliked her, but now, she wasn’t so sure.
A few minutes later, Mia entered the room, and Galatea quickly gestured for silence, not wanting to wake Alaric.
Seeing him lying in her bed, Mia raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?” she whispered. “How did Alaric end up here?”
“He got drunk,” Galatea replied in a low voice, heading toward the kitchen. “He came in without saying a word and just collapsed onto the bed.”
Mia looked around, her curiosity piqued. “Are you planning on making him some hangover soup?”
“Uh-huh,” Galatea nodded as she began to gather the ingredients. “You know how it is with a hangover—headaches, nausea… he’ll need it.”
Mia smiled faintly. “It seems to me like he’s got a thing for you.”
Galatea blinked in surprise. “What?”
Mia’s smile grew wider. “You two are just pretending to be a couple, right? But he spends all this time with you at the hospital, buys you a huge house… something tells me it’s not just out of obligation.”
Galatea laughed, dismissing the idea. “Mia, you’re reading too much into it. He stayed at the hospital because he felt partly responsible for my car accident. He bought the house because I’m his fiancée in name—it would look bad if I lived in a run-down place.”
Mia didn’t seem convinced, her tone turning a bit more serious. “You’re a bit naive, you know? There’s a big difference between going through the motions and actually caring. If it were just guilt, he could’ve paid your medical bills and hired someone to take care of you. But he didn’t. He did everything himself.”
Galatea hesitated, not sure how to respond. She hadn’t thought about it that way before.
Mia continued, “And as for the house—he didn’t just buy any nice place. He chose one right next to his company. Why would he do that unless he wanted to be near you?”
Galatea shook her head, still struggling to accept the possibility. “I don’t know, Mia. Maybe he just feels responsible.”
Mia gently took her hand, speaking with more tenderness. “Stellan, Harry and Elisa are grown up now. They support you, and they want you to be happy. If Alaric really cares about you, why not give him a chance? I’m not saying it’s easy, but you deserve to be happy too.”
Galatea’s chest tightened at the thought. “But… my past… Harry and Elisa’s origins… my son…”
Mia’s eyes softened with concern. “You don’t need to hide your past. If Alaric really cares for you, he’ll understand. And with his connections, he could help you find your son. But if he can’t accept you for who you are, then at least you’ll know. You won’t be stuck wondering.”
Galatea was quiet for a long moment, contemplating Mia’s words. There was a heavy weight in her heart, and Mia’s insight only added to her uncertainty.
Mia continued, “You’ve always lived for others—Harry, Elisa, your son. But what about you? You can’t wait forever for things to fall into place. Eventually, we all have to think about our own happiness too.”
Galatea finally spoke, her voice soft. “I don’t know what to do.”
Mia smiled gently, patting her shoulder. “You don’t have to figure it all out today. Just think about it, Stellan.”
Galatea nodded and went to the kitchen to prepare a soothing hangover soup for Alaric. When she returned to the bedroom, she found him still deep in sleep. She set the soup aside, her thoughts swirling in her mind.
Could she really have feelings for him? Was it possible that Alaric cared for her? Hadn’t he always seemed to avoid any emotional connection?
Her thoughts were interrupted when Alaric stirred in the bed. His face contorted with discomfort, as though the alcohol was still taking its toll on him.
“Alaric? Alaric?” she called softly, her hand resting on his shoulder.
His eyes fluttered open, and he groaned as a headache hit him full force. The room seemed to spin before his eyes, and he groggily looked up at Galatea. “Where is this?”
Galatea’s brow furrowed in concern. “You don’t remember? This is my house. How did you get here?”
He squinted, trying to piece the fragments of memory together. “I… don’t remember much after the hotel. The driver asked if I wanted to go home, but I told him to take me to your place…”
His voice trailed off as his headache intensified.
Galatea shook her head, exasperated. “You know you can’t handle your liquor! And yet, you drink like this?” She handed him a bowl of hangover soup. “Drink this. It’ll help.”
Alaric grumbled, taking the bowl from her. “Got it, Bossy,” he muttered, his tone casual despite the pain in his head.
“Bossy?” Galatea repeated, caught off guard by his words. Was he seriously calling her “Bossy”?
“Yeah, Bossy,” he repeated with a small grin, clearly amused by his own teasing.
Galatea was left speechless for a moment, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing her face as she watched him sip the soup. “You’re lucky I’m taking care of you after all this,” she muttered under her breath.
Alaric just smiled in return, his eyes already slipping shut again as the soup began to soothe his headache. He might be calling her “Bossy,” but it was clear that, despite the teasing, he was in no position to protest her care.