From Broken to Beloved-Chapter 150-she loved him

"You are worth my loving deeply, worth my cherishing, and worth my promise of marriage."

As Bert finished speaking, Catherine broke down in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

Bert tightened his embrace, and Catherine buried herself against his burning-hot chest, finally crying out loud.

She had heard the words "I love you" before—more than once—but only this time did they cut so deeply, so profoundly, carving themselves into her bones, becoming something she would never forget.

Because the man who spoke those words was also the man she loved to the marrow of her soul.

Once Catherine’s emotions gradually settled in Bert’s arms, she suddenly remembered that he had a fever. She hurriedly pushed at him,

"You’re burning up like this—I’ll get you some water and medicine, or we should just go straight to the hospital."

Bert tightened his hold on her, not letting her get up. Lowering his gaze to her face, he asked,

"Then you’re not mad at me anymore? You forgive me?"

Having endured a high fever until now without taking any medicine or treatment, Bert was actually reaching his limit. But he needed a clear answer from her—otherwise, wouldn’t all this suffering be for nothing?

To keep the pressure on her, Bert shamelessly doubled down,

"If you don’t forgive me and make up with me, then I refuse to get treated!"

"How can you be so childish!"

Catherine was so exasperated by him that she didn’t even know what to say. She had always thought he was mature, steady, someone who had everything figured out—but listen to what he was saying now. Not making up means not taking medicine? What was more important, his health or their reconciliation?

Bert buried his face into the crook of her neck. Gradually, his strength seemed to fade, and his voice slowed with it,

"Call me childish or boring if you want. I just know that I want us to be good together—no fighting, no sulking. Okay?"

"We met too late already. Let’s not waste what time we have on arguments and cold wars, okay?"

Those words—we met too late already—hit Catherine right in her weakest place again. Her eyes reddened as tears welled up once more.

Yes. They had met too late. They should cherish each other instead of wasting time in silence and resentment. Whatever entanglements they had in the past no longer mattered. What mattered was that they loved each other now—and that was enough.

She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his waist on her own initiative. The scorching heat of his body made her tremble, and her voice trembled with it,

"Okay. We won’t fight anymore. We’ll make up."

She could clearly feel his body relax, as if he had finally been set free.

Softly, Catherine added,

"I’ve agreed to make up. Can you take your medicine now?"

Bert loosened his hold on her, his eyes filled with an intense smile,

"Okay."

As soon as he answered, before Catherine could even get up, his hand cupped the back of her head and his lips covered hers once more.

Bert didn’t care whether he might pass his cold to her. All he knew was that at this moment, he desperately wanted to kiss her.

And now that he had won her forgiveness, his calculated act of self-sacrifice had finally succeeded.

Of course, he also knew very well that her softness, her pain, her worry, her sadness—all of it existed for one simple reason.

Because she loved him.

In the end, Bert obediently took his medicine. Catherine fed him both fever reducers and cold medicine, and once he had taken them, he quickly fell into a deep sleep.

He truly couldn’t hold on any longer. He had felt miserable all day yesterday—his throat aching, coughing nonstop—and sometime after midnight he had started running a fever. He had stubbornly refused to take any medicine or treatment, all just so he could make her worry about him today.

Now that his goal had been achieved, he had no energy left to keep going and simply fell asleep. On top of that, the cold medicine itself had a sedative effect, making it even harder for him to resist sleep.

After he fell asleep, Catherine took his temperature—it was 39 degrees Celsius. Her heart clenched with worry. She hurried to the bathroom, soaked a towel in warm water, wrung it out, and placed it on his forehead. Then she took another damp towel and repeatedly wiped his palms and the soles of his feet, helping to lower his temperature through physical cooling.

In truth, wiping the body with a towel was the fastest way to reduce a fever. But for Catherine, she was still too shy to undress him and wipe his body like that—even though they had already been intimate two years ago.

Thinking about it now, what had happened two years ago could be considered the beginning of their shared fate.

If that night had never happened, then when they met again two years later, she would have been a complete stranger to him. He wouldn’t have stepped in to help her, wouldn’t have gradually fallen in love with her, and there wouldn’t be the Catherine of today—surrounded by love.

She changed the towels several times and wiped his hands and feet again and again. Only after his temperature began to slowly come down did Catherine finally stop and take a short rest.

Glancing at the time, she realized it was almost lunchtime. She quickly went to the kitchen.

Since Bert often cooked for himself, his kitchen was well stocked with ingredients. Catherine first set a pot of rice porridge to simmer over low heat, then picked out a couple of light vegetables, washed and prepared them, planning to cook them after he woke up.

Bert slept very deeply. When he woke, he felt much better—no longer dizzy or lightheaded like he had been during the fever. The fever had mostly gone down, though the cold symptoms wouldn’t disappear so quickly.

Bert knew Catherine hadn’t left, and he knew she wouldn’t.

There was a cup of warm water by the bedside, and the air seemed to carry the faint fragrance of white porridge.

That feeling brought him a sense of calm and fullness, and even more so, warmth.

At this moment, Bert could clearly tell: this was the happiness he wanted. This was the future married life he longed for. If they could someday have a son and a daughter around them as well, it would be absolutely perfect.

Last night, when he had heard Karl and Marylin talking about wedding plans, Bert had already felt restless. And now he felt that since the two of them had made up, and the time bomb from two years ago had been completely defused, the next step between them should naturally be marriage.

Because he had been drenched in cold sweat from the fever, Bert went to the bathroom to take a shower after getting up.

Catherine had been busy in the kitchen. She had already chopped and prepared the vegetables. Checking the time, she realized Bert had been asleep for nearly three hours. She thought she should go see whether he was awake—if he was, she would start cooking.

She pushed open the bedroom door and had just stepped inside when she heard the sound of a hair dryer in the bathroom stop. Then the bathroom door opened, and Bert walked out with only a bath towel tied around his waist.

He looked refreshed and clear-headed—obviously much better than before.

And of course, Catherine saw all of him.

The solid, well-built body that belonged to a man, the firm lines sculpted by exercise and training, the strong waist and abdomen barely covered by the towel...

Catherine froze for a moment. Her ears flushed red as she quickly turned her head away.

"Since you’re awake, I’ll go back out and start cooking."

With that, she was about to flee through the door. She had never imagined she’d walk in on such an intimate, provocative scene.

Bert hadn’t expected her to come in so suddenly either—but since she was already here, he had no intention of letting her go. Yesterday, when things had been on the verge of happening and she had suddenly discovered his identity, the agony he’d felt was not something he wanted to experience again.

So Catherine was promptly pulled back by him. Bert lowered his head and went to kiss her lips. Catherine tilted her head, dodging him,

"Let’s eat first. You’ve slept for so long—you must be hungry..."

Hearing her words, Bert let out a low chuckle, his voice deep and rich, like a captivating melody,

"I really am hungry," he said slowly.

"Starving—desperately so."