Obsession His Runaway Bride (Noelle and Adrian) novel Chapter 88

Chapter 88: Bearded

Chapter 88: Bearded

“Then…” he murmured, hesitant but certain all at once. “Will you give me a name?”

Grace’s hands instinctively tightened around the handles of the wheelchair in a firm grip while her mind went momentarily

blank.

“Please?”

For a second, she simply stared at him, caught entirely off guard by the request.

And then, to the man’s surprise, she burst out laughing.

A full, unrestrained cackle with her head tilting back slightly as she clapped her hands together, genuinely amused by the absurdity of the situation.

“You are not a pet,” she said, wiping away the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes as she recovered from her laughter. “Why would you let a stranger give you a name?”

But the man was smarter than she thought.

“Then why would you invite a stranger to eat?” he countered, his tone serious, his sharp cognac eyes holding hers steadily. There was no sarcasm in his voice, no hint of mockery. He genuinely wanted to know which made her pause.

The way he threw her logic back at her so effortlessly made her stare at him for a beat longer than necessary.

Then, with a sigh, she shrugged, already pushing him forward again.

“Well… you’re alone… I’m alone… don’t you think we make a good pair?”

The man blinked, taken aback by the simplicity of her answer.

She did not elaborate. Did not make it sound deeper than it was. It was a statement, plain and direct, that somehow made him feel downhearted.

The conversation ended there, and Grace continued pushing him down the street until they finally arrived at a small boutique. The moment they stepped inside, a staff member, a woman in her late twenties with neatly tied hair and a professional smile, turned to greet them.

“Welcome, uh…”

Her voice faltered the second she got a proper look at them–more specifically, at him.

Grace did not miss the hesitation in her eyes, the way she instinctively straightened as if unsure how to react.

Before she could say anything, Grace spoke.

“It’s fine,” she said smoothly. “Can you grab him a pair of clothes? Something clean and comfortable. Also, I need a pair of scissors and a lot of wet wipes. Do you have that?”

The woman blinked rapidly, momentarily thrown off by the commanding tone.

“Eh… uh, we–we do…” she stammered before quickly nodding. “I–I’ll get all of those for you right away.”

She rushed off without another word, leaving Grace standing there with the man still seated in the wheelchair.

Grace exhaled, glancing down at him with an amused smirk playing at her lips.

“Well,” she mused, crossing her arms, “let’s make you look a little more presentable, shall we?”

Before he could respond, she reached forward, plucking the worn–out hat from his head.

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The moment she did, she blinked in mild surprise.

“Huh,” she muttered, tilting her head as she ran her fingers through it without thinking. “Is this natural?”

His dark blonde strands slipped between her fingers like silk. For someone who looked so disheveled, his hair was unexpectedly

soft.

The man stiffened slightly at the unexpected touch, but before he could answer, the staff member from earlier returned, holding a pair of scissors in one hand and a pack of wet wipes in the other.

Grace immediately stood up straight, turning to take them, but the moment she reached for them-

The man suddenly stood up.

The sound of the wheelchair scraping against the boutique floor was drowned out by the sharp gasp that escaped the staff member. Her face paled as she stumbled back, her eyes widening utter shock.

Grace’s brows furrowed at the overreaction.

“What?” she asked, glancing at the woman in confusion as she grabbed the wet wipes and scissors from her hands.

The woman did not respond.

It was only when Grace turned to look that she, too, felt her breath hitch.

The man who was supposedly crippled man, stood tall in a straight posture with his broad frame and imposing figure.

He was standing as if he had never needed the wheelchair at all.

“What the hell?” she blurted out in shock.

The man, however, simply looked down at her with an expression so calm it only made the situation feel more unnerving.

“You can stand?!” Grace’s voice echoed inside the store, drawing the attention of a few curious onlookers. Her eyes widened, still struggling to process what she was seeing.

“Yes… should I… sit back down?” he asked, his brows furrowing slightly in concern at her reaction.

“No! Keep standing.”

A breathless chuckle escaped her lips as she reached for his arm, her fingers instinctively wrapping around his wrist as if making sure he was real.

“I thought you were crippled!” She shook her head, letting out a short laugh that was equal parts amusement and disbelief.

Without waiting for a response, she grabbed his arm and pulled him along with her, dragging him through the boutique with ease despite his significantly larger frame.

The staff member, still visibly shaken by the sudden revelation, gawked at the abandoned wheelchair as if it had betrayed her. “Please throw that wheelchair away,” Grace added over her shoulder in a casual tone, as if discarding it was no different from getting rid of an old pair of shoes.

The woman only blinked in confusion, still too stunned to reply.

Meanwhile, Grace led the man toward a nearby full–body mirror. She then stopped before it and let go of his wrist. She took a step back and finally got a proper look at him.

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Now that he was standing at his full height, she realized just how well–built he was.

Broad shoulders, strong frame, and a presence that demanded attention even through the layers of dirt and the overgrown beard. He was not just some beggar. That much was obvious now.

Her sharp gaze flickered to his reflection in the mirror before shifting back to him with a small smirk tugging at the corner of

Chapter 88: Bearded

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her lips.

“Well,” Grace mused, crossing her arms as she studied him through the mirror, “you certainly don’t look like someone who’s been starving on the streets.”

The man remained silent but his cognac–colored eyes were locked onto her reflection.

Grace tilted her head slightly, narrowing her gaze. “Why were you a wheelchair, by the way?”

Before he could answer, she reached for his chin, tilting it up without hesitation.

He stiffened slightly but did not resist as she lifted the scissors and began trimming his overgrown beard. Strands of hair fell onto the boutique floor, and yet, his gaze never left her. He simply watched.

“I needed something to sit on because the ground was cold,” he finally answered. “I found the wheelchair parked beside a garbage pile. So I took it. It was already worn out, so I didn’t think someone else needed it.”

Grace paused mid–trim before shaking her head in disbelief as a grin tugged at her lips.

“And you never told me you could walk?”

The man only blinked at her, as if the thought had never even crossed his mind. After a beat of silence, he lowered his gaze slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

She had expected deflection, a cocky remark, maybe even some poor attempt at lying.

But instead, he just apologized.

For some reason, that amused her even more.

With a shake of her head, she let out a quiet chuckle.

“You really are something else,” she muttered, stepping back to admire her work.

Now that the overgrown beard was gone, his features were more defined with strong jawline and sharp cheekbones. Her eyes lingered on his reflection for a second longer before a proud smirk tugged at her lips.

“And handsome too,” she added, as if it were an afterthought.

The man blinked at her, clearly caught off guard by the sudden remark. Grace, however, did not dwell on it. She simply grabbed a pack of wet wipes from the counter, pulled one out, and without warning, pressed it against his face, wiping away the dirt.