The CEO’s Unspoken Love (Eleanor and Derek) novel Chapter 216

Chapter 216

Eleanor POV

The first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the bedroom. I opened my eyes slowly, savoring the quiet moment before the day truly began. Beside me, Derek was still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. It had been a week since his discharge from the hospital, and every morning I woke with the same overwhelming sense of gratitude.

I studied his face, peaceful in sleep, so different from the pale, still figure that had haunted my dreams for those terrible weeks in the hospital. The bruises on his face had faded to yellowish shadows, and the bandages were gone, replaced by a thin pink line along his hairline that would eventually become just another story written on his skin.

Carefully, I slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb him. The doctors had stressed the importance of rest, and I was determined to follow every instruction to ensure his recovery. As I padded to the kitchen, I couldn’t help but marvel at how drastically my life had changed. A month ago, I’d been keeping vigil at his hospital bedside, terrified of losing him forever. Now, he was here, in my home, slowly healing.

I prepared a simple breakfast tray: scrambled eggs, toast, fresh fruit, and coffee. Just as I was arranging everything, I heard movement upstairs. By the time I carried the tray up, Derek was awake, propped against the pillows, his hair adorably mussed.

“Good morning,” I said, setting the tray across his lap.

His eyes lit up at the sight of food. “You’re spoiling me.”

“Consider it debt repayment, I teased, sitting beside him. “You did the same for me when I had the flu, remember?”

Derek reached for the fork, his movements still a bit stiff. I watched as he struggled slightly to cut a piece of toast, fighting the urge to help. The physical therapist had emphasized the importance of letting him do things himself, even if it took longer.

“Thank you,” he said suddenly, looking up from his plate. “Not just for breakfast, but for… everything.”

I smiled, feeling warmth spread through my chest. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“I do,” he insisted. “I know this isn’t easy, having an invalid taking over your bedroom.”

“First of all, you’re not an invalid. And second, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

After breakfast, I reached for the book on my nightstand. “I’ve been reading Agatha Christie lately,” I said, showing him the cover of

Murder on the Orient Express.

Derek’s eyes brightened. “Christie? Amateur hour.”

“Excuse me?”

“I read her entire collection by the time I was fifteen,” he said, that familiar cocky grin spreading across his face. “Each one is flawless.”

Derek stilled under my hands. “Because of me?”

“Because it was the right choice for now.” I met his gaze steadily. “It’s just a temporary break.”

“I hate that you had to give up something you loved.”

‘I didn’t give up anything important,” I said softly.

Later, I read him one of my favorite nineteenth-century poems. Halfway through, Derek cleared his throat and suddenly began reciting the same lines in an exaggerated British accent, his voice pompous and theatrical. I burst out laughing, unable to continue.

“That’s terrible!” I gasped between fits of giggles.

Undeterred, he switched to a Shakespearean delivery, then a modern slam poetry style, each interpretation more ridiculous than the last. I watched him, amazed by this playful side I’d rarely seen before.