Chapter 2

HENRY

Time passed, and in my own way, I noticed the small changes. I no longer heard Camille's clumsy footsteps. Her scent had changed, and strangely, I found myself craving it more and more.

My father died. My stepmother tried to get rid of me. And Camille and I ended up getting married — to protect me.

Yes, that stupid girl. On top of losing her entire youth caring for a blind, hopeless man, she married him too — just so she'd be legally responsible for him and no one could decide his fate without consulting her.

Our marriage wasn't just that — a protection, an arrangement where only one side had the advantage. Naturally, we became intimate.

At first, I felt guilty. I felt like a scoundrel, taking advantage of someone who probably did everything for me out of nothing more than a debt of guilt that, to me, didn't even make sense anymore. If Camille had ever been to blame for what happened to me, she'd already paid. Our relationship had become unfair to her. Whether it was time or some maturity I'd gained, I knew she wasn't at fault for what happened.

Thinking that way made me feel like the worst man in the world. A user. Camille shouldn't have to carry me through life.

Even so, even feeling like the worst man alive, I was coward enough not to put an end to it.

On those dark nights, I couldn't resist reaching for her. Maybe she wasn't the most beautiful woman in the world. Maybe she wasn't the woman I'd dreamed of. But she had an irresistible scent, her skin was as soft as velvet, and she tasted sweet as honey.

When we were having sex, it was the only time I felt in control. I didn't need to see to find her mouth, her breasts, her core.

I couldn't stop thinking about the taste of her arousal, how she trembled in my hands, the sounds of her breathing and the moans she tried to suppress. I couldn't resist the urge to thrust deep inside her, how wet and hot she got, completely at the mercy of pleasure on our most heated nights.

In the moment, all I wanted was more of her, more pleasure. But after we both peaked, all I wanted was for it to end — for some miracle to free me from this life of depending entirely on another person, even for sex.

I'd never been with other women, and I wondered whether what we had was truly good or whether it would be far better with someone else. Camille probably wasn't much of a beauty, not exactly an attractive woman. Maybe I only felt so much pleasure and desire because I couldn't see her.

I started asking myself these questions, and from then on, the guilt began to fade. I started thinking that maybe giving her those nights was a fair trade for her services, since she received nothing for everything she did for me.

I relaxed in the bathtub and let all the guilt drain away. My hair fell into my eyes, and it bothered me. It was just a remnant of an old habit from when I could see, because in truth, those strands weren't blocking the vision I didn't have.

A short time later, I sensed Camille's presence. Unlike before, she was now extremely quiet — always barefoot, moving with such delicacy that most people would never notice her. It's strange and I can't explain it, but my blindness had awakened a new sense in me: the ability to feel her presence.

She knelt down, and as if she'd read my mind — she probably had — Camille swept the strands of hair back from my face.

Skillfully, she began running a sponge soaked with liquid soap over my body. She worked her way down, and I grew involuntarily hot. Being deprived of sight made my other senses sharpen.

Every movement of her hands sent waves of heat crashing through me. She went lower, between my legs, and I was already ready. My thoughts had slowed to a crawl, and I could only think with one head. She stopped with her hand there, stroking, clearly teasing me.

I couldn't take it. I grabbed her arm and pulled her toward me.

"Henry!" She let out a little yelp that caught me off guard.

"What? Why are you startled? You were just teasing me a second ago. Take off your clothes and get in the tub."

"Oh... was that what it seemed like? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to — I just got distracted. Not tonight, okay? I'm tired today."

It took me a few seconds to process. I'd never heard Camille make an excuse to refuse me.

"Are you really trying to push me away? Am I ugly and disgusting to you, Camille?"

"No, Henry... You're... you're attractive. Very attractive," she said softly, shyness clear in her voice.

The air between us shifted, and before she could pull away, I gripped her arm tighter and drew her to me.

"Then get in the tub. If you don't think I'm disgusting, you should take advantage — since I can't pay you money for your services."

I felt her body tense instantly. Gently, she freed herself from my grip and stepped back.

"Is that really all you see me as? Just your maid, Henry?" she asked, leaving me speechless for a moment. I swear, in all those years, she had never asked me anything like that.

"How do I see you?" How do I see her? "I don't see you, Camille. You know that."

"You know what I mean, Henry. Please. I need to hear it from you — how do you see me? What do you think of the woman I am?"

"Are you serious, Camille?" As they say, silence speaks louder than a thousand words, and that was exactly what she gave me back.

I shifted uncomfortably in the tub, sensing this wouldn't be a pleasant conversation. She waited patiently until I finally spoke:

"I think... I think you're strange. I can't understand you. Nobody would devote themselves so completely to another person in exchange for nothing. If the roles were reversed, you know I'd never do the same for you — don't you?"

She tried to hide it, but not well enough. My heightened hearing caught the tremor in her breathing. Oh, come on. She's not going to cry again, is she?

I waited a while before continuing:

"I remember you, Camille. I remember your reddish hair and your strange thinness. I remember your freckles and your odd smile. I know people don't change much as they grow up, and you've probably become a pretty... let's say... an ordinary woman. I know the accident didn't leave any marks on my face besides the blindness, and I know I probably look far better than you."

I took a deep breath. I didn't feel good about what I was about to say, but as much as I felt like a scoundrel, I wouldn't lie.

"What do I think of you? Well... I think you might have some kind of self-esteem issue, or maybe you've developed some emotional dependency on me. It's not normal to give up your dreams for someone who can't love you."

I heard her breathing carefully — probably trying to disguise her crying again.

"These things change, you know? Maybe one day you'll discover that you love me."

"No, Camille. It's impossible to love someone you can't see."

At that, she left the bathroom and left me alone. I waited for her to come back to help me finish my bath until the water turned ice cold. She didn't come back.

I had no choice but to manage on my own. With difficulty, I climbed out of the tub. I knocked things over, slipped a few times before finding my bathrobe.

I made it back to the bedroom, and even without being able to see, I knew I was alone. She wasn't there.

***This work has been signed with NovelToon, and piracy such as reprinting without permission is strictly prohibited.***

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***