He Got Engaged to His First Love On the Day I Died-Chapter 135: Why Don’t We Just Get Married

In the room next door, the woman was still pouring glass after glass of the harsh liquid down her throat.

Whether she accepted it or not,

the fact that Maxwell Morgan had a new family was real.

’Should I graciously accept this stepmother? Or should I just quietly leave Yarrow and stop disturbing his happiness?’

She could do it, really.

It just made her heart ache. Terribly.

Theodore Grant was in a foul mood as well.

Listening to the clinking and clanking from the room next door, he knew the woman had had too much to drink.

He left his room, explained their relationship to the front desk, and got a key card.

He swiped open Natalie Morgan’s door.

The smell of red wine was overpowering.

The woman was sitting on the floor, her face as red as a tomato. She was clutching a wine bottle and muttering some drunken nonsense.

He walked over and, with an almost imperious gesture, scooped her up into his arms, then gently placed her on the soft bed.

Just as he was about to turn and leave, her arms coiled around his neck like vines.

"Felix."

’Felix?’

’She’s actually mistaking me for Felix Finch?’

A wave of indescribable anger surged through him. He gripped her wrist, trying to pull her arms from around his neck.

However, the woman seemed oblivious to his anger, clinging to him even more insistently.

"Felix, why are you being so rough? You’re acting just like that Grant... so... rough."

Her voice was a dazed, petulant murmur—part accusation, part plea.

He had never seen this side of Natalie Morgan.

Most of the time they’d spent together had been spent tearing each other apart.

It was a bloody, agonizing, tangled mess.

Something tugged at his heart. He took a deep, steadying breath. "All right. Go to sleep."

"Don’t go." She tightened her grip on his neck, pulling him down toward her. He barely managed to catch himself with his arms. "Stop messing around."

"Felix, why do you look a little like Theodore Grant today?" she asked, staring dazedly at the man before her.

She reached out and pinched his cheeks, his nose, his lips.

She blinked. "Don’t look like him. Handsome men are all cruel."

Theodore Grant: "..."

"Felix, I know you’ve wanted to marry me for a long time. So... let’s get married." She cupped his face and pressed her soft lips to his.

Theodore Grant shoved her away.

’Damn it.’

’He’d gone to such lengths to win her back, and not only did she refuse, but now she was actively walking into Felix Finch’s trap.’

’It was like she had a death wish.’

The shove hurt, and she started to cry pitifully. "Fine, if you don’t want to get married, we won’t! Why’d you have to get so mad?"

"Natalie Morgan, I know you’re drunk. I don’t blame you for mistaking me for Felix Finch. But to think you can just marry him and live happily ever after... you’re being far too naive."

He spoke quietly, more to himself than to her.

The woman didn’t hear him, and her sobs grew louder, as if he were the one bullying her.

Unable to take it anymore, he turned back to her. "Stop crying. It’s not like I did anything to you."

"You won’t marry me? Well, I don’t want to marry you, either! You think I’m that desperate to get married?" the woman sobbed, her eyes shut tight. "I’m perfectly happy on my own, you have no idea."

"I’ll marry you. Would you marry me?" At that moment, he wasn’t sure if he was speaking as himself or as the Felix Finch she saw before her.

He just looked at her.

His gaze was earnest and intense, full of desperate hope.

Natalie Morgan suddenly burst out laughing. "Felix, you know, when you’re serious, you look exactly like Theodore Grant. I would never marry Theodore Grant. He’s the nightmare of my life. Never, ever..."

He had to admit, in that moment, his heart completely shattered.

The last shred of hope he had vanished like a bubble, floating away only to pop.

’He shouldn’t have been so stubborn.’

’What was done was done, and the mistake he had made was impossible to atone for.’

’He accepted it.’

He pulled the covers over Natalie Morgan, tucking her in, and prepared to leave.

Like a nimble kitten, she scrambled onto his back and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Tell me, who are you? Who are you really?"

"I’m..." He gritted his teeth. "...room service."

She seemed a little disappointed by his answer, letting out a soft "oh."

But she didn’t get down from his back.

She remained clinging tightly to him, as if trying to draw some warmth and comfort from his body.

He turned his head slightly. "Go back to bed. You need to rest."

"I... I..."

A sudden wave of nausea washed over her, and her stomach churned violently.

She couldn’t help but open her mouth, and a stream of sour, alcohol-laced vomit spewed from her throat all over his shirt.

Theodore Grant: "..."

Fighting back his disgust, he carried her to the bathroom, where she collapsed, hugging the toilet and heaving.

He stripped off his own shirt and tossed it aside.

He walked over and gently rubbed her back. "How much did you drink?"

"Two... two bottles," she slurred, pointedly holding up three fingers.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or be angry. "Impressive."

Her stomach gave another lurch, and she threw up again.

The ordeal left her completely drained.

He called Weller Kendall and had him buy some hangover medicine and bring it over.

He stayed with Natalie Morgan until she was sleeping peacefully.

Then, he wrote a short note on the medicine box: "Take with warm water. And try to drink less in the future."

Back in his own room,

he took a shower.

Early the next morning, he and Weller Kendall returned to Riverden.

Natalie Morgan clutched her splitting head. She pried open her swollen eyelids, her throat bone dry.

She had blacked out.

She didn’t know how she’d ended up in bed; she only vaguely remembered throwing up.

Tilting her head, she saw a box of medicine on the nightstand.

Curious, she picked it up. One glance at the handwriting on it made her drop it in shock.

It was Theodore Grant’s handwriting. She was all too familiar with it.

’Did he buy this medicine?’

’Was he here last night?’

A sense of inexplicable panic surged through her. She flung back the covers and was relieved to find her clothes were still on and in order. Only then did she relax slightly.

She patted her heavy head, trying to shake off the lingering dizziness, and then slowly got up and walked toward the bathroom.

At the bathroom door, she happened to glance down and see a vomit-stained men’s shirt on the floor.

It was more proof that Theodore Grant had been there the night before.

She closed her eyes.

’What rotten luck.’

「Back in Fenchest.」

Felix Finch met with Natalie Morgan and invited her to go out on the ocean that weekend to clear her head.

Her heart felt heavy, so she agreed.

Nothing was more refreshing than the blue sky and open sea.

Felix Finch had a small yacht.

Natalie Morgan stood on deck, holding Momo’s hand. The sea glittered, the sun was bright, and the weather was calm. A sea breeze lifted her long, soft hair, making it dance like the waves in a mesmerizing display.

Felix Finch stood a short distance away, his intense gaze fixed on Natalie Morgan before slowly shifting to Momo’s innocent little face.

His eyes, however, held an unreadable emotion.

’Perhaps I’ll start with the little one.’

He walked over to them, a gentle smile on his face. "Why don’t I play with Momo for a while? You should take a break. There are drinks inside. Go grab one and relax."

"That’s all right, I’m not thirsty right now," Natalie Morgan replied with a smile.

"Well, go get one if you get thirsty later." He picked up Momo and pointed at a seagull, making the little boy giggle. "Look how high that bird is flying! Does Momo want to fly, too?"