Reborn As Mr. Coldwell's Wife
Chapter 188: Between Guys

Chapter 188: Between Guys

Mason drove home in silence, his fingers gripping the steering wheel as the events of the day replayed in his mind. His jaw was throbbing, a constant reminder of the hit Gerald had given him. A bruise was already forming, spreading along his cheekbone, darkening the skin beneath his eye.

When Mason finally pulled into the long driveway and turned off the engine, he didn’t get out right away. Instead, he leaned back in his seat and glanced at the rearview mirror to see how bad it was. His face stared back at him—tired, worn, and now bruised. The dark mark under his eye was stark against his pale skin, the edges purple and swollen.

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "Still got it," he muttered to himself, amused at how strong Gerald’s punch had been. It reminded him of their younger days, back when fights like this weren’t so rare. But this one hit harder than the others.

After a moment, he sighed and opened the door. He started toward the entrance, taking slow, careful steps, trying to think of a way to tell Ellen about his face. He hated seeing her worry, and he wasn’t in the mood for a fuss, especially about something as trivial as a bruise.

The front door creaked open, and before he could even call out, Ellen was there, smiling as she greeted him. Her dark hair hair framed her face softly, and her bright eyes lit up when she saw him. "Hey, you’re home," she said cheerfully, stepping forward to give him a quick hug.

Mason, still trying to hide the side of his face where the bruise had settled, returned the hug, but kept his face angled away from her. "Yeah, just got back."

But it didn’t take long for Ellen’s smile to falter. She stepped back, her eyes narrowing as she caught sight of the bruise. Her face quickly shifted from warm to worried, her brow furrowing as she stared at him. "Mason... what happened to your face?" she asked. "Did you—did you get into a fight? Did someone mug you or what?"

He could see the panic rising in her eyes, her hands hovering near his cheek, unsure whether to touch it. "Do we need to go to the hospital?" she added, her voice rising slightly as she took a step closer, clearly on the verge of full-blown panic.

Mason raised his hands, palms out in a calming gesture. "Ellen, relax. It’s nothing," he said, trying to sound calm, even though the bruise throbbed with every word.

"One punch isn’t going to kill me."

Her eyes widened even more at the word "punch," her worry intensifying. "One punch?" she echoed, her voice soft with disbelief. "But still, Mason, what happened? Who punched you?" She gently but firmly guided him toward the couch, her hands on his shoulders as she urged him to sit. "You need to sit down. Let me get the first-aid kit."

Mason didn’t resist, knowing there was no way she was going to drop this. He sat down on the couch, leaning back into the soft cushions, watching as Ellen hurried to the hall closet. She came back a minute later, clutching a small medical kit and sitting down next to him.

Carefully, she opened the kit and pulled out some antiseptic wipes, her fingers trembling slightly as she dabbed at his bruise. The cold sting of the antiseptic made him wince, but he bit back the discomfort, not wanting to worry her more than she already was.

"So," Ellen said, breaking the silence as she worked. "Are you going to tell me what really happened? Because this doesn’t look like nothing."

Mason sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. "I got into a little argument with Gerald," he admitted.

Ellen paused, her eyes widening again in surprise. "Gerald?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch. "So he’s the one who hit you?"

Mason winced as she pressed a little too hard on the bruise, the sudden pain shooting through his jaw. "Ow, Ellen, easy," he muttered, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch his cheek.

Ellen immediately pulled her hand back, her face flushed with embarrassment. "Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to—" she began, biting her lip as she looked at him with apologetic eyes. "I just can’t believe Gerald did this. I mean... Gerald."

Mason let out a small chuckle, though it was more bitter than amused. "Yeah, well, it happened. But it’s fine, really. We’ve been through worse."

Ellen frowned, her fingers now moving more gently over the bruise as she applied a soothing ointment. "Fine?" she echoed, her tone incredulous. "How is this fine?" She pointed at his bruised face, her eyes narrowing with frustration. "He punched you, Mason. He ruined your handsome face. What could possibly justify that?"

Mason chuckled again, this time more genuinely, though his face still ached with the movement. "I guess he had his reasons," he said, his voice soft as he thought back to the argument with Gerald.

Ellen muttered something under her breath as she continued tending to the bruise, her touch tender and careful. "That Gerald," she mumbled. "How dare he..."

Mason watched her, feeling a strange warmth settle in his chest as he observed the way she was so focused on caring for him, her worry etched in every movement.

"It’s really not a big deal," he said softly, hoping to ease her concern. "It’s just how guys are, you know? Punch, hit—it’s normal."

Ellen sat back on her heels, her hands resting on her thighs as she looked up at him with both concern and frustration.

. "Did he... did he punch you because of Aubrey?"

"Oh, how do you know?" Mason figured it was easy for Ellen to see the connections.

Ellen frowned, her fingers tracing the edges of the bruise on his cheek as if trying to make sense of it all. "So he really hit you because of Aubrey?"

Mason nodded, his gaze distant. "I guess I brought this on myself, and anyway, it’s complicated."

Then she shook her head again, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Well, complicated or not, he had no right to do this."

Mason smiled softly at her, touched by her protectiveness. "You don’t have to worry about me, Ellen," he said gently. "I can handle it."

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