Callie wasn’t exactly surprised, but somehow her heart softened a bit. She stubbornly retorted, “Are you disgusted by my scar?”
Nelson paused for a moment, looked up at her with a warning glance. “If you don’t want more pain, keep your mouth shut.”
Callie didn’t listen to him. “Marilyn doesn’t have a scar, does she? Why bother with me?”
Nelson had no interest in answering such questions, and Callie talking to herself was incredibly dull.
He stayed silent, and she endured the pain, feeling miserable, gripping the edge of the bed tightly.
Nelson glanced at her. “Let go.”
Her fingers were clenched so tightly they were turning white.
Callie felt utterly wronged, “It hurts!”
Nelson tossed a sponge at her, “Hold this.”
It felt like punching a pillow.
Callie had no choice but to keep pestering him, “Why do you have tattoos?”
“Learned it a long time ago.”
She couldn’t see what he was tattooing on her, feeling both pain and panic, she kept rambling, “I want something pretty. Can you draw? Do you have any artistic talent? I’m afraid you’ll mess it up…”
Nelson ignored her, focusing intently.
Callie’s skin was pale. As the tattoo needle slowly pierced her skin, tiny beads of blood emerged. The stark contrast of red and white was visually striking.
Nelson’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he fought the urge to torment Callie, to make her cry and beg for mercy.
“I heard people get tattoos to remember something important,” Callie paused, “Nelson, do you want me to always remember this scar?”
Nelson finally looked at her face. She was frowning deeply from the pain.
He seemed to think of something and suddenly said, “I married you, not because of Maevelyn.”
Callie was stunned.
“At first, I might have confused you two, but that was over twenty years ago. Childhood memories, no matter how deep, won’t be projected onto the person beside me now.”
His tone was calm and gentle, carrying an undeniable conviction.
Nelson continued his work.
“I owe her a debt, but with you, it’s more than that.”
“Do you trust me?” he asked, looking at her.
Callie’s heart skipped a beat as she stared at his face so close to hers.
He was very serious while working, his expression sharp and focused, his dark eyes fixed only on the task at hand.
Afraid she might keep complaining, he was gentler.
She could see the fine hairs on his face.
She got lost in thought staring at him.
“Can I trust you?”
“Of course.” His reply was brief but different from Jaquan’s firm answers.
Two hours passed.
They stayed in that position for two hours.
“Done.”
Nelson put away his tools.
Callie jumped up eagerly and found a mirror to inspect the tattoo.
He had tattooed a blue thorny bush around her waist, covering the scar.
Freshly done, the outline was still red and blurry, but it would look beautiful in a few days.
Nelson took off his apron. Seeing her unintentional happiness made him smile slightly.
“What does this tattoo mean?”
“It’s mine.” Nelson gently wrapped his arms around her from behind and pulled down her shirt possessively. “You’re mine for life.”
The meaning was clear-he intended to use the thorns to keep her bound to him.