Rebirth Of The Forgotten Heiress - Chapter 40: Chapter 40

Yasin stood dressed in a black windbreaker and cargo pants, his slightly lowered head accentuating his sharp jawline. Though his lips were pale, his posture radiated restless energy.
Quinlyn shook her head in disbelief. Despite his raging fever, Yasin had pushed through the jungle downpour for a full hour without showing any sign of weakness until he collapsed. Now here he was, completely fixated on catching crabs like some malfunctioning machine stuck in a loop.
With an exasperated sigh, she approached and prodded his arm.
Yasin glanced down at her and made a noncommittal sound.
"Remember who you are?" she asked.
Yasin shot her that "are-you-kidding-me" look and then replied, "Of course I do."
Quinlyn wasn't convinced, but debating with a feverish patient seemed futile.
She switched tactics. "We're leaving in two days. Why the rush for crabs now? Back in the city, I'll treat you to a proper crab meal—every variety you can imagine. For now, just rest."
Yasin noticed the hopeful gleam in her eyes. There was something oddly endearing about the way she was trying to reason with him, like an adult patiently bargaining with a stubborn child.
Before he realized what he was doing, his hand found its way to her head, fingers threading through surprisingly cool, silken hair.
"No," he insisted childishly, his fever-addled mind regressing to toddler-like stubbornness.
Quinlyn had never realized how illness could strip away adult pretenses, leaving only raw, infantile will.
They lingered in the doorway, bathed in a narrow band of twilight that formed an intimate corona around them—an invisible boundary no outsider could cross.
The observers reacted in varying degrees.
Rita, ever watchful, arched an eyebrow at the scene. Quinlyn's supposed devotion to Zachary made this new attachment puzzling to her.
Xavier's lips twitched as he watched Quinlyn's ears flush red under Yasin's gentle head-rubbing—such a stark contrast to her usual bossy self. Just yesterday, she'd been barking orders at him, yet here she was, soft and compliant.
The rest of the crowd hardly reacted. It was, after all, none of their concern.
Only Yarden paid proper attention. He was already composing the message he would deliver to his mother later—how Quinlyn had taken up with someone new, and how this one seemed particularly impressive.
'Our Chappell family deserves better than this. We worked so hard to make Quinlyn the extraordinary woman she is today,' he thought bitterly.
His gaze lingered on the graceful lines of her face before drifting lower, bitterness coiling in his chest. 'If not for the Guzman family meddling, Quinlyn would be mine right now.'
Yasin's fingers stilled abruptly against Quinlyn's hand. He turned his head slightly and fixed Yarden with an icy stare—completely empty of emotion, like he was looking at something worthless. A faint crease appeared between his brows.
Yasin's look made it painfully clear he didn't consider Yarden worth his attention, yet Yarden still managed to irritate him.
Though the eye contact lasted mere seconds, it left Yarden's shirt clinging to his sweat-slicked back.
In all their recent encounters, Yarden had only witnessed Yasin's true fury once when those men had harassed Quinlyn. That outburst had only been partially directed at him and seemed almost warm compared to this glacial stare.
Yarden's body went rigid as Yasin's frown intensified. The sheer deadly focus in that look made him feel like he was staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. Every nerve in his body told him to prepare for the worst.
Elsie, standing nearby, caught Yarden's lingering look at Quinlyn. She remained silent, offering no comfort. Her mind was already calculating her exit strategy—Yarden was clearly headed for disaster, and she had no intention of going down with him.
Quinlyn felt the tension but couldn't pinpoint its source. When she tried to follow Yasin's gaze, he abruptly withdrew his hand. "We should go," he said, already moving toward the exit. "It's getting late."
The well-bred young men and women fell into step behind him with quiet discipline, like obedient schoolchildren on a field trip.
Quinlyn marveled at how someone who spent all day lounging in his room could command such instant obedience.
Zachary and Yalena remained in bed, neither in any state to move. Zachary was clearly determined to tough it out rather than worry the elders, though Yalena at least seemed to be holding up better.
Quinlyn had witnessed as they carried Zachary inside—his body battered, his skin flushed with fever, looking barely conscious. Yet even in this state, the stubborn man refused to let anyone contact Logan, his jaw clenched tight against the pain.
This wasn't how Quinlyn remembered things. In her previous life, when she had brought Zachary back injured, Logan had immediately sent for help. The family had treated Zachary like a fragile treasure.
But now, for some reason, he was acting like a stubborn teenager, refusing to ask for assistance.
Zachary was already awake when the sounds of the group preparing for the beach drifted through his open window.
Kevin paused at the doorway, suddenly realizing he ought to check with Zachary first.
Before Kevin could make his move, Yasin cut in, "Ask if he's tough enough to keep up. We're leaving here soon, and he hasn't seen the island yet."
Quinlyn observed this new, taunting side of Yasin, which seemed to be brought out by the fever, with quiet interest.
Kevin was still deciding how to phrase the question when Zachary's voice carried clearly from inside. "I'm coming!"
Zachary neatly sidestepped the implied challenge about his toughness.
Their group expanded quickly. Zachary appeared first, followed shortly by Yalena who kept her gaze lowered as she fell into step.
The full group of ten now marched toward the shoreline in a determined procession, with Yasin stubbornly leading despite his fever and an equally sick Zachary trailing at the back.
Walking side by side, Zachary and Yalena carried none of their former romantic sparks. Yalena's earlier attempts at flirtation had fallen flat, and though Zachary never brought it up after waking, the failed effort hung between them like a heavy curtain.
The weight of it made Yalena's eyes sting, and she gradually let her steps lag behind the others.