Smiling at Sheldonâs enthusiasm, Lyndon ruffled his hair affectionately.
âThatâs right.
So, what do you think I should do?â
Pondering seriously, Sheldon offered, âDaddy, you and Mommy are adults.
Flowers and kisses always make Mommy smile.
â
Lyndon was at a loss for words.
He thought Sheldonâs suggestion could not be applicable to him.
Deciding not to continue the conversation, Lyndon thanked Sheldon for the suggestion and made his way upstairs.
He paused at a closed door, raised his hand, and knocked gently.
.
.
Library
âCome in,â Tildaâs voice called from inside, softer than usual.
Lyndon entered the room to find Tilda dressed in her cozy home attire, her face etched with the faint traces of discomfort from her wound.
Noticing him, she questioned, âWhatâs up?â
Approaching her, Lyndonâs eyes held hers as he gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
His voice was soft yet firm.
âI donât ever want todayâs incident to happen again.
I canât stand to see you getting hurt, especially not on my account.
â
His eyes, usually so distant, warmed when they met hers, giving Tilda a fleeting feeling of being deeply cherished.
However, she quickly regained her composure and clarified, âJust so you know, what happened today wasnât for you.
It was to protect Sheldon from Evita.
â
Lyndonâs gaze intensified, absorbing her words.
After a pause, he asked, âAre you sure?â
Tilda averted her gaze and nodded affirmatively.
A subtle smile curved Lyndonâs lips.
âThatâs good to hear.
You should never feel the need to sacrifice yourself for me.
Youâre my wife, and itâs my role to protect you.
â
His tone conveyed a comforting steadiness that Tilda found reassuring yet unsettling.
She remained silent, her lips pressed firmly together.
Lyndon reached out, placing his hand gently on her shoulder.
âLetâs focus on living well together.
I promise, no more incidents like at the cliffside.
â
That reference to the cliff-where he had chosen to save another over her-hung heavily in the air.
Did his promise mean he would prioritize her in the future?
Her heart fluttering with a mix of hope and uncertainty, Tilda looked up into his tender gaze and found herself asking, âHave you let go of Rosa?â
The pressure of his hand on her shoulder increased momentarily.