Chapter 1
The moonlight cast a pale glow in the tidy chamber, the window fogged up from the cool night air. Elanor Fairchild lay nestled against the man beside her, his striking features marked by dark, alluring eyes like polished obsidian. Elanor felt a warmth envelop her, her skin marked with faint blushes that punctuated her delicate fair complexion, a playful hue blooming across her collarbone, chest, and even the tops of her thighs. The man leaned down, kissing her with a tenderness that swept from her lips down to her chest. His lips sought hers, their tongues weaving together, drawing breath from one another in passion. His hands roamed down her body, and she felt a tightness in her core, warmth pooling as heated liquid seeped down her thighs, staining the crisp white sheets. The air thickened with desire, palpable and intoxicating. Elanor felt like a small boat caught in the currents of a river, swaying gently – until suddenly, he thrust into her, breaking through her sweet ache. “Ah… be gentle…” she whispered, softly moaning, her voice seemingly stoking his desire further. He moved rhythmically, each thrust igniting fires deep within her as if he were a volcano erupting. When he finally released himself inside her, her mind spun in blissful fog, feeling as though she had been utterly consumed. “Do you want more?” he murmured darkly, his voice laced with lingering desire. Elanor’s fingers climbed to his well-defined shoulders; his muscular form was stunning, beads of sweat trickling down his jawline and onto her. She held him tightly, breathless, whispering, “Please… I need more.” When she awoke, it was just past 5 AM, the dawn bringing a gray sheen to her surroundings. The sheets were damp, her body clammy. She slipped off her lacy white panties and replaced them before stepping up to the floor-to-ceiling window, lighting a cigarette. The fiery stick glowed bright red, smoke swirling around her like a mist. Her gaze drifted far away, lost in an endless distance. A self-deprecating smile crept across her lips. Indeed, it seemed that women her age – nearing thirty – were like fiery wolves. Though not quite thirty yet, she had already dreamed such vivid fantasies countless times. Elanor liked to think she wasn’t overly infatuated with romance, yet this month alone, she had indulged in several sultry dreams. Each time, it was that same man. In school, every girl had a crush or two, and Elanor was no different. She pulled out her high school graduation photo. In it, he had soft, dark hair that fell gently over his forehead, piercing eyes that seemed to hold secrets, an air of seriousness mixed with undeniable charm. He wore the typical blue and white school uniform, yet he made it look effortlessly good. She suddenly recalled how much he loved basketball, how hordes of girls would flock to bring him water. Back then, Elanor was merely a spectator. On those hot summer days, the sun threw a spotlight on him, beads of sweat glistening, oddly captivating. Cedric Blackwood had transferred to their class in sophomore year, joining Elanor's science class. He was stunning, stealing the attention of nearly every girl in the room with his enchanting hazel eyes that sparkled like jewels. “Hey everyone! I’m Cedric Blackwood,” he had introduced himself with a casual grin that made hearts race in the classroom. Master Li, their strict yet lovable teacher, had scanned the room and pointed toward Elanor’s desk in the corner. “Cedric, please sit in front of Elanor,” she had instructed with narrowed eyes that seemed to tease a smile. It was undeniable that handsome students received special treatment. Master Li, usually thunderous in voice, instructed with an unusual gentleness, instigating whispers of intrigue among their classmates. Zara Grimshaw leaned over to Elanor's ear and whispered, “Elanor, he keeps glancing this way. Do you think he’s got a crush on you?” Elanor dismissed Zara's comment, knowing Cedric was merely figuring out where to sit. Yet, for the rest of that day, her cheeks burned with an inexplicable heat. The faint scent of his cologne wafted toward her, utterly intoxicating; it lingered throughout the lesson, making it hard to concentrate. She forcibly dragged herself away from that memory, understanding those youthful dreams would never return. That boy would never belong to her. Over the years, Elanor had encountered plenty of eligible men, yet there always seemed to be something missing: the wealthy lacked charm, the charming lacked depth, and she couldn't afford to remain a single lady indefinitely. Elanor was attractive, and suitors often came her way. While her features weren't breathtakingly stunning, they were pleasing and eye-catching. Some were momentarily awe-inspiring but faded over time. Elanor, however, was like a beautiful chrysanthemum nestled amongst a field of vibrant blooms. While she didn’t possess the wealth and opulence of a peony, she showcased her own unique and delicate allure. Her skin was fair, dusted with a rosy hue, and her hair was slightly tousled. Those expressive eyes of hers sparkled, perhaps because she had genuinely experienced pleasure. She couldn’t discern if this was reality or yet another dream. The sensations were too intense, almost tangible, as if she had indeed shared intimate moments with Cedric Blackwood.
Chapter 2
“Dr. Blackwood, the acute gastroenteritis patient from this morning has stabilized,” Nurse Beth reported, her round face and bright eyes reflecting the morning sun. Dr. Cedric Blackwood, slightly pursed lips giving away his fatigue, acknowledged her. Just the night before, he had been on call in the emergency department, attending to an emergency patient. Nurse Beth noticed his pale complexion and gently urged, “Dr. Blackwood, it's time to hand over your shift. You should really go rest.” Cedric simply nodded. Truth was, he was feeling a bit lightheaded, a result of the grueling night shift combined with skipping breakfast. He reached into his lab coat pocket and pulled out a green hard candy. Unwrapping it, he popped it into his mouth, hoping to alleviate the dizziness. As Nurse Beth watched his fluid motions, it struck her that the Westridge Mercy Hospital had its two male heartthrobs. Dr. Blackwood, from the gastroenterology department, was a perennial favorite among female staff, captivating eyes and admiration from many. With his handsome demeanor and the air of restraint that came from donning the lab coat, Cedric had managed to maintain a scandal-free reputation throughout his years at the hospital, much to the envy of his colleagues. Even behind closed doors, his charm stirred the imaginations of many; for them, it seemed no one could compare to Cedric Blackwood. After hanging up his lab coat in the staff locker, he wore a fitted white long-sleeve shirt and black trousers, effortlessly drawing attention as he walked. He made his way to Room 602, and as he stepped inside, he heard the familiar voice of Grandmother Agnes. “Cedric, you should really go rest now,” she said, seated comfortably with a French novel in hand. The sunlight streamed in through the blinds, illuminating her gentle demeanor. Cedric felt a brief flash of nostalgia; Grandmother Agnes resembled his late mother in ways that were comforting and familiar. He approached her bedside and adjusted the blanket around her, noting the drop in temperature lately. “Reading again, Grandmother?” he said, a soft smile breaking through his usually stoic demeanor—it was only around her that he allowed himself to show this affectionate side. To others, he might come off as unavailable or even cold. Once he had said goodbye to Grandmother Agnes, Cedric took the elevator down, which was packed with people. Finding a corner, he glanced around the crowded space. At the crack of dawn, Elanor Fairchild had reluctantly come to the hospital, still groggy from sleep. The incessant chatter of Lady Linford could wear anyone down. She was the one who insisted on this visit, claiming that Elanor’s irregular sleep cycle had caused her to miss her period. Early this morning, Lady Linford had pulled Elanor from her warm bed, ensuring she would see a doctor, a visit she had supposedly already pre-scheduled. Elanor hurriedly slipped on a red dress and waited impatiently for the elevator. After a couple of minutes, the doors opened. She immediately spotted Cedric inside, her heart racing. Her grip tightened around her medical records, and she felt as though her feet were glued to the floor. The other elevator passengers, growing impatient, cried out, “Are you getting in or what? Close the doors already!” With a quick intake of breath, Elanor squeezed into the elevator. The crowd pressed her into a corner, and slowly, she came to realize that she was next to Cedric. She dared not look up at him, instead focusing intently on her shoes, too shy to meet his gaze, especially after the dream she had about him a few nights ago. Cedric, however, had noticed her presence. With so many people crammed in, the faint scent of roses wafted from her direction. She held tightly to her medical papers, the silence between them thick and awkward. Finally, Cedric broke the ice, saying, “Elanor Fairchild. How long do you plan to keep pretending you don’t know me?” As he spoke, Elanor couldn’t help but admire his graceful, long fingers resting casually by his side. She found herself wondering how those hands would feel if they brushed against her skin, igniting a sudden warmth within her. Reluctantly, she looked up at him. His expression was calm, with a hint of playful mischief that only deepened the flush on her cheeks. She hadn’t anticipated he would even remember her, and her heart thumped nervously in her chest. She managed a sheepish smile, “Cedric, it’s been a while.” Just then, the elevator doors slid open, and relief washed over her like a wave as she stepped out, feeling the urge to escape as though he were a specter following her. But before she could walk away, Cedric caught her by the wrist, his tone teasing, “Are you really that afraid of me?”
Chapter 3
“Then what?” Zara Grimshaw bit down on her straw, resting her chin on her hand, exuding a charm that even Elanor Fairchild, her closest friend, felt a shiver of admiration for. Elanor accepted the American coffee that the waiter brought over and stirred it gently, the rich aroma wafting up. She looked up at Zara and replied, “What can I do? If I don’t act, I’ll just end up embarrassing myself.” Zara, brimming with exasperation, slapped the polished wooden table. “I can’t believe how timid you are, especially with that pretty face of yours.” “Yes, yes, I know you’re the fabulous Zara Grimshaw, but think about it: I just had a dream about him the other night, and it was—let's just say, intense. I can’t face him now,” Elanor shot back, her long eyelashes casting shadows across her cheeks. Zara watched her; the mix of dejection and allure made her want to shake some sense into Elanor. Zara had been Elanor's rock since high school, a loyal friend who had stuck by her through university and into adulthood. She understood Elanor's cool demeanor often masked a deep-seated insecurity, one that stemmed from a past incident that still haunted her friend. With a playful smirk, Zara took a sip of her coffee. “How about you just go for it? Take him to bed, and at least you won’t regret it later.” Elanor met Zara’s gaze, clearly amused. “Oh, and look at you, getting all cozy with your Lord Fenton. You must be riding on a wave of romance these days.” Zara blushed, the rosy hue creeping across her cheeks as she radiated a glow that only those who had been in love could possess. She fell silent, but her smile said it all. “So what’s your plan moving forward, huh? You’re just going to stay single forever?” Zara leaned in, worry etched on her face. She knew what Elanor wanted; she had been crushing on Cedric Blackwood for nearly a decade. That first crush, formative and potent, had left Elanor disillusioned and hesitant. When she finally dared to confess, the moment slipped away from her grasp. Cedric transferred schools, and just like that, he faded from her life, as if he were swallowed by the passage of time. “You’ve got a choice: either accept your mom’s blind dates or muster the courage to go after Cedric,” Zara analyzed. Elanor ignored her friend’s teasing. It wasn’t that simple. She was completely in the dark about Cedric’s feelings. Lady Linford, her mother, was another story; fierce and relentless, Fiona Lin would stop at nothing to see her daughter married. Since Elanor turned twenty-five, Lady Linford had unleashed a deluge of eligible bachelors upon her—lawyers, doctors, teachers, you name it—and still, Elanor found herself unimpressed. The poor matchmaking efforts had only served to damage her reputation. Now, whispers circulated in their social circles, speculating whether the Fairchild princess might be hiding some mysterious flaw.
Chapter 4
Elanor Fairchild brushed her slightly curled brown hair and asked, "Grimshaw, do you think there's a chance for me and him?" "Opportunities are created by people; how would you know if Cedric Blackwood truly doesn't like you unless you give it a shot?" Zara Grimshaw replied. The warm sunlight poured in through the kitchen window, illuminating both of them. Elanor could see the confidence that Zara had gained; she had grown and found her own happiness. Elanor smiled, feeling a wave of comfort. When Elanor arrived home, her mother was in the kitchen preparing soup. It was early December in Westridge, and a light frost had begun to settle in. Fiona Lin heard the door open, wiped her hands on her apron, and asked, "You're back. Are you tired?" Elanor shrugged off her coat, her voice tinged with fatigue. "Yeah." Lady Linford inquired, "How did it go?" "Nothing much, just some hormonal issues and menstrual cramps. The doctor prescribed medication. I'll be fine if I stick to it." The sound of boiling soup filled the kitchen as Lady Linford rushed to open the pot, releasing a fragrant aroma of pork rib soup into the air along with a rising cloud of steam. Elanor leaned against the doorframe, watching her mother bustle around. Suddenly, she asked, "Mom, if I never get married, will you be upset with me?" Lady Linford nearly dropped the ladle in shock. She was usually a gentle person, but discussing this topic with Elanor always brought out her stubbornness. "You're still young and beautiful. When you're older and see others pairing off, you'll naturally know when it's time to get married." "Everyone is an individual, and until you find the right person, we all walk alone. Even if you have parents and friends, that one person is your true belonging; your life will be happier because of their presence," Lady Linford said, her eyes glistening with emotion. She ladled a bowl of soup for Elanor and continued, "Love is like drinking water; you know best whether it's warm or cold." "Elanor, never lose hope in love. You will meet someone who truly loves and understands you." After Lady Linford's heartfelt speech, Elanor found herself at a loss for words, feeling a strange agreement. When her mother mentioned a soul mate, the first image that popped into her head was Cedric's face. Out of the blue, Lady Linford exclaimed, "There's a French professor named Kellerman at our school. His grandson is said to be a doctor and quite handsome. How about you meet him in a few days?" Elanor paused, her spoon frozen above the delicate porcelain bowl. She continued to sip the soup, perhaps resigning herself to fate. Though Cedric was a wonderful person, he ultimately wasn’t hers. She bit down on her spoon and replied, "Mom, I’ll give it a try."
Chapter 5
Early in the morning, Lady Linford called out for Elanor Fairchild to get up. However, the weather was too cold, and Elanor nestled deeper into her warm blankets, refusing to rise. Fiona Lin, chuckling softly, decided to let her be. She opened the door to find her father standing there with Grandmother Agnes. "Hold on a minute," Lady Linford said, pulling Elanor aside. "You and I are going to visit Professor Kellerman at the hospital and check in on her grandson." Elanor, also a college professor in the history department, had met Fiona at university. After seeing each other a few times, they became a couple, and their relationship had always been filled with tenderness. Their days together might have been simple, but they were warm and cozy. Elanor, in their eyes, embodied the ideal child—well-behaved and understanding—but when it came to matters of the heart, she was like a stubborn stone, resistant to getting close to anyone, always keeping people at arm's length. Fiona Lin and her husband carried a basket of fruit as they approached the hospital room. She fixed her hair and lightly reminded Elanor to keep quiet. Pushing the door open, they saw Professor Kellerman sitting up in bed with a young man in a crisp white coat beside her. He had a gentle gaze and was skillfully peeling an apple for her, the skin coming off in perfect spirals. “Knock, knock,” Cedric Blackwood said as he chatted with Grandmother Agnes. When Professor Kellerman spotted Fiona and her husband standing at the door, her eyes lit up with joy. She gestured for Cedric to open the door. As he did, he noticed the middle-aged couple—his unfamiliarity with them only adding to the slight confusion he felt. Quickly, he stepped aside to let them in. “Please, have a seat! What a lovely surprise you’ve come by!” Grandmother Agnes exclaimed, clearly familiar with both Fiona and her husband. Cedric took the fruit basket, and Fiona appraised him; he was impeccably dressed in his lab coat, displaying a kind demeanor toward Professor Kellerman, giving her an impression of being quite filial. While Fiona observed, Elanor’s father gently tugged at her sleeve, signaling her to temper her admiration. “Cedric, go wash the fruit for our guests,” Professor Kellerman instructed. Fiona smiled, “Such a thoughtful young man, and quite a catch!” “It’s true. His mother passed away when he was young, and he grew up with my Uncle Edwin by my side,” Professor Kellerman said, pausing for a moment. “I can only hope to see him happily married one day. Who knows if I’ll still be around to witness it…” Professor Kellerman turned to Lady Linford. “Your niece Elanor must be about the same age as him, right? What was her name again?” “Her memory isn’t as sharp anymore; I believe it’s Elanor. How old is she now?” “Twenty-seven. She’s always been a bit of a worry—still single,” he replied with a hint of concern. Cedric was at the sink, a wall separating him from the conversation. He paused when he heard Elanor’s name, drying his hands before bringing the fruit back to the group. Fiona smiled at him and asked, “You’re Cedric, right? Do you have a girlfriend?” He’d heard that question countless times—especially during family gatherings around holidays when relatives would pry into his love life. Cedric had a routine answer ready, just to evade any matchmaking attempts. But this time, he felt genuine, so he simply replied, “Not at the moment.”
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