"Of course," Fitch nodded, backing out of the room and gently closing the door behind him. Zephyr handed a spoonful of medicine to Rosalind. "Here, you give Lysander his medicine."

"Oh, uh..." Rosalind blinked, a bit dazed by the sudden task, but quickly took the spoon from Zephyr's hand.

She walked over and sat beside Lysander's bed, scooping up a spoonful of the liquid and carefully bringing it to his lips.

Just as the spoon touched his mouth, the medicine dribbled out, spilling down his chin and onto his neck.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't realize Lysander wouldn't open his mouth," Rosalind gasped, hastily setting the medicine on the nightstand and grabbing a tissue to wipe the spill from his neck. She was inexperienced in caregiving, her movements awkward and frantic.

Zephyr watched from the sidelines, his voice deep and seasoned with age. "Do you know how Thalassa usually administers his medicine?"

Rosalind, having finished wiping Lysander's face clean, stood up and silently shook her head. She had never seen Thalassa give Lysander his medicine and obviously had no idea.

"She uses her mouth," Zephyr said simply.

Rosalind's eyes widened slightly, the words 'uses her mouth' striking her not only as a shock but as a blow.

She knew that Thalassa looked after Lysander at the Royal Estates, but she had never imagined their relationship to be so intimate.

Her mother had told her that Thalassa was just like any other servant at the estate, dealing only with the trivialities of Lysander's care. She hadn't expected such closeness between them! Rosalind had harbored a crush on Lysander since her teenage years, and now, the thought of her beloved exchanging daily kisses with another woman soured her heart.

"If you've decided to marry Lysander, you must understand everything about him and accept his entire past," Zephyr said earnestly.

He didn't intend to hide the fact of Lysander's relationship with Thalassa.

NOW PLAY YOUR

FAVOURITE GAMES ON

The call to Rosalind's mother, revealing that Lysander would awaken in two months, was to honor a three-year-old marriage agreement with the Whitman family.

If the Whitman family couldn't accept Lysander's three-year coma or his history with another woman, Zephyr wouldn't force the issue. There were plenty of heiresses eager for a chance with Lysander.

If Rosalind was unwilling, Zephyr would not hesitate to call off the engagement on Lysander's behalf to avoid wasting his time.

If Rosalind could accept it, he would fully support her union with Lysander; if not, he would find someone else for Lysander.

Rosalind looked at Zephyr's serious face and listened to his solemn words. She was smart enough to understand that he was presenting her with a choice.

After a few seconds of hesitation, she responded with conviction, "I know about Lysander and Thalassa's past relationship, and that they have four children together. I can accept and embrace all of Lysander's past, and if I marry him, I will love those four children as if they were my own."

Zephyr was looking for just this kind of attitude. Hearing her assertiveness, his expression softened.

"Alright, go on and give Lysander the medicine. Use your mouth; you'll have to get used to it." Rosalind didn't hesitate. "Okay."

She turned back, picked up the medicine, took a sip, and leaned toward Lysander's lips, bending down slowly.

As she drew closer, Rosalind felt Lysander's robust breath on her face, his masculine scent making her heart race.

Before their lips could even touch, her heart was already in chaos. She found herself almost eager, longing for the sensation of kissing him.

Just as Rosalind's lips were about to meet Lysander's, a deep cough rumbled up from his throat.

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