One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 128: Chapter 128

The water ran too hot.
It scalded her skin where the scars still whispered, where the bruises hadn’t yet faded beneath the surface. Arielle pressed her forehead to the cool tile, arms braced against the shower wall, and let the steam fog everything—her vision, her breath, her grief.
She was unraveling.
Pain lanced through her abdomen in a dull, grinding wave. The same place where life had once grown inside her now throbbed with betrayal. Her body had survived, yes, but at what cost?
The doctor’s words haunted her.
The nurse’s warning lingered.
She couldn’t trust her own flesh anymore, and that loss—the betrayal of her own body—was a grief she hadn’t known how to name.
Arielle crumpled slowly to her knees, the spray pounding against her back like punishment. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She just sat there, trembling, until the pain pulsed behind her ribs and finally broke through.
She sobbed.
Not the quiet kind. The guttural, ugly, helpless kind that wracked her body with each breath. Every fiber of strength she had held for the kids, for Damien, for herself—shattered.
Damien heard her before he saw her.
He’d come to check on her, towel in hand, thinking she’d just lost track of time. But when he opened the bathroom door and stepped through the curtain of steam, what he saw stopped him cold.
Arielle.
Collapsed.
Naked, knees drawn in, arms covering her chest as if shielding herself from something only she could feel.
He dropped the towel.
“Baby—”
She didn’t flinch. That scared him more.
He crouched beside her in the shower, his clothes instantly soaking through, his hands hovering as if touching her might break her further.
“Arielle. Look at me.”
Her face turned slowly. Her eyes were red. Her lips trembled.
“I can’t do it,” she whispered. “I can’t be strong anymore. My body… it hates me. It’s ruined. I’m ruined.”
Damien reached for her carefully, wrapping his arms around her wet skin, lifting her gently into his lap like a wounded bird.
“You are not ruined,” he whispered into her hair. “You’re hurting. You’re healing. You’re human.”
He sat there for a long time, rocking her beneath the steady stream of water.
Eventually, he turned the knob. The water stopped.
“Come on,” he said gently. “Let me take care of you now.”
He stood with her in his arms, holding her with reverence. He laid her on a soft towel, drying her off in slow, careful motions. Every curve, every scar, every place she thought herself broken—he treated as sacred.
He ran a warm washcloth across her back.
Across her arms.
Over the fading bruises along her ribcage.
“I hate that you saw me like that,” she whispered.
“I hate that you thought you had to hide it,” he said.
He filled the tub next, adding eucalyptus oil and gentle bubbles. The kind she liked. He held her hand as he helped her into the water, and once she was settled, he took a sponge and knelt beside her.
He washed her slowly.
Her shoulders.
Her thighs.
Her feet.
Not with lust. Not with pity.
With devotion.
With love.
Tears leaked from her eyes again, but they were silent now. Healing.
“You’ve held so much,” he murmured. “Let me hold you.”
Arielle reached for him, and Damien climbed in behind her, pulling her into his chest. Her head rested against him, their bodies floating in the warm water, limbs intertwined.
“You don’t have to be strong here,” he said. “Not with me.”
“I’ve forgotten what it feels like to fall apart.”
“Then let me remind you how to be whole again.”
They stayed like that for a long time. No words. Just breath. Heartbeats. Water lapping gently against porcelain.
And when he finally carried her back to bed—clean, warm, wrapped in his shirt—he tucked her beneath the covers and kissed her forehead.
“Tomorrow we’ll face the world again,” he said softly. “Tonight, we rest.”
Arielle nodded, her fingers slipping into his. She didn’t sleep immediately, but when she did, it was deep. Dreamless.
Safe.
Because sometimes love didn’t roar.
Sometimes love knelt down.
And bathed you.