Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts

Chapter 308: Chapter Three Hundred And Seven

The bedroom was quiet.

Camilla’s thumb slowly, gently caressed the smooth glass covering the miniature portrait inside.

As she looked at the cat, memories flooded her heart. She remembered her modern world. She remembered the lonely, quiet nights in her large apartment after a dangerous mission as the Black Widow. She remembered how Winston was her only source of comfort in a cold, brutal life. She had described him only once.

She could not believe what she was holding. This was not a chest of cold gold coins. This was not a formal, expensive dress meant to show off the General’s wealth. This was a piece of her heart. Damon had actually listened to her. He had remembered her exact words. He had secretly commissioned an artist to paint a picture of her cat, just to bring a smile to her face.

Her mind stopped working. She was speechless, both outside and inside her head.

Damon’s chest rose and fell as he took a slow, anxious breath. He was still waiting.

" There’s an empty space by the left," Damon added, to see if she would say anything. " You can add another portrait that has a significant meaning to you."

But after a minute, there was still nothing.

A deep weight of crushing disappointment dropped onto his shoulders.

"I failed," Damon thought to himself, his internal voice filled with sadness. "The gift did not work. She hates it. She is still angry about the lie I told her in the letter yesterday. She still hates me for abandoning her to stay at the military camp. I have ruined everything again."

He let out a disappointed sigh. The sound echoed softly and sadly in the quiet bedroom.

He could not bear to stand there and wait for her to reject the gift out loud. He felt defeated. He needed to step away and give her space.

Damon turned his body around. He walked slowly toward the center of the room, his boots making quiet sounds on the floorboards. He reached his hands up to his shirt. He turned to remove his shirt, intending to wash away the exhaustion of the long, stressful day at the military camp and to change into his sleeping trousers.

Camilla heard the soft, sad sound of his disappointed sigh. She felt the comforting warmth of his body leave the space behind her back.

She finally snapped out of her frozen, emotional daze.

She quickly raised her head. She looked at the large glass mirror on the vanity table and saw his reflection walking away. She saw his shoulders slumping forward in defeat. His hands were reaching for his shirt. She realized exactly what he was thinking. He thought she hated the gift because she had been silent.

"No," Camilla whispered to herself, a sudden, urgent panic rising in her chest. "He misunderstood my silence. I have to stop him."

She quickly snapped the locket shut with a soft click. She stood up from the stool immediately. She did not walk slowly. She moved in long, fast strides across the floorboards. Her white silk nightgown fluttered around her ankles as she rushed toward his back to catch up to him before he could remove his shirt.

She closed the distance between them in three fast steps.

Camilla wrapped her arms tightly around his waist from behind. She pressed the side of her face firmly into the center of his back, burying her face deeply into his white shirt. She held him close, refusing to let him walk away from her.

Damon froze his movements.

His hands stopped instantly on his shirt. His entire body went rigidly. The breath caught entirely in his throat, trapping the air in his lungs.

He felt the soft, warm weight of her body pressing against his back. He felt her small arms locked tightly around his waist. He could feel the rapid, frantic beating of her heart against his spine. The scent of her sweet soap filled his senses to the brim.

Damon blinked his eyes rapidly in the light of the bedroom.

The crushing disappointment inside his chest vanished in a tiny fraction of a second. It was immediately replaced by an explosive rush of joy.

A very wide smile lit up Damon’s face. His eyes sparkled with happiness. The tips of his ears turned a light shade of pink in the shadows.

He did not try to pull her off. He did not turn around immediately. He slowly dropped his hands from his shirt buttons. He allowed them to stay in that exact, warm, intimate position for more seconds, simply enjoying the peace and comfort of her embrace. He wanted to memorize the feeling of her holding him so securely.

Outside in the hallway, Mr. Murry was walking very quickly.

The older housekeeper was holding a large silver tray filled with hot, steaming food, a bowl of hot soup, and sweet pastries. Murry was feeling very stressed and anxious.

Because of the sudden changes in the kitchen schedule, dinner was arriving much later than usual.

Murry was terrified that the General would be

angry about the late arrival of the food that was why he was bringing it himself.

Murry reached the door of the bedroom. He raised his fist, fully preparing to knock loudly on the wood to announce his presence and offer his sincere apologies to the General.

But as he raised his hand, Murry’s old eyes went to the small opening in the door. The door was not completely closed. It was left open just a tiny, small crack.

Murry paused. He peeked inside the room through the small opening.

He looked into the warm, yellow light of the bedroom. He saw the General standing in the center of the room. He saw Lady Camilla wrapping her arms tightly around the General’s waist from behind, burying her face lovingly into his back. And most importantly, Murry saw the sheepish happy smile plastered across the General’s face.

Murry lowered his fist immediately.

His wrinkled face broke into an overjoyed smile. His eyes twinkled with happiness.

Murry took some slow, careful steps backward, moving away from the door so he would not disturb their intimate moment.

"Seems like he won’t be angry about the late arrival of dinner," Murry whispered to himself with a very happy, knowing smile. " Dinner is not his priority now."

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