Chapter176 – I like…
Atticus glanced at Clarissa’s fair, delicate arm. Fortunately, the young eagle hadn’t had much strength left—it didn’t bite too deep. If it had, things might’ve gotten tricky.
Clarissa shook her head. “It’s okay. Just a scratch.”
“Still,” Atticus said, pulling out a disinfectant wipe, “you should get a shot when we get back..”
He cleaned the wound carefully, then wrapped it in a bandage.
As she watched his gentle, precise movements, Clarissa hesitated, then softly asked, “Atticus… earlier, you said you’d become a doctor. Did you really mean that?”
Atticus looked up and gave a smile. “Of course.”
She bit her lip. “But… are you sure it’s what you want? You don’t have to do it for me, you know. If it’s not something you like, you shouldn’t force yourself.”
A soft breath escaped Atticus’s nose—barely audible. Then, without warning, he reached out and pulled her into his arms.
“Clarissa,” he murmured, his voice low and warm against her ear, “for me, a job is just a job. I can do anything. But if you want me to be a doctor… then I’ll be one. Because your happiness matters more to me than anything else.”
Clarissa’s heart gave a sharp ache, and her eyes welled up with tears.
She sniffed. “You idiot… Don’t let anyone else influence your life. Not even me, okay?”
Atticus looked down at her with soft, indulgent eyes. “Alright, alright. I’ll listen to you,” he said with a smirk. “But it’s not just because of you. I want to be like my teachers too. Whether it’s being a cop or a doctor—doing something that helps others. That’s what I want.”
Clarissa couldn’t hold back anymore. The tears fell, not from sadness this time, but from joy.
She nodded and buried her face in his chest, arms around his waist. “That’s… that’s perfect.”
Atticus gently stroked the back of her head, his fingers threading through her soft hair.
What a silly woman, he thought, lips quirking into a smile.
The frost in his eyes gradually thawed, replaced by a tenderness that softened every edge of him.
In the end, Clarissa left the valley empty-handed.
It was Atticus who carried away two flat gray stones, a strange plant Clarissa didn’t recognize, and the wounded young eagle. He hadn’t planned on taking it—the bird was young but should’ve been able to survive on insects.
But just as they were about to leave, the eagle struggled to its feet and began waddling after them, unsteady but determined.
Clarissa looked between the limping Atticus and the wobbling bird, and couldn’t help but laugh.
“You two are kind of alike.”
Atticus frowned. “How exactly are we alike?”
“You’re both kind of fierce and small,” she said teasingly. “It looks like you when you were younger.”
His expression darkened. “You’re comparing me to a dumb bird now?”
Clarissa gave him a mischievous grin. “Well, you both act like tough guys. It suits you.”
Atticus gave her a long-suffering look.
She leaned in and tugged on his sleeve. “Let’s keep it. I think it really likes you. And besides, it wouldn’t have gotten hurt if not for us.”
.......
That night, after her bath, Clarissa stepped out of the bathroom in a white nightgown. The satin clung lightly to her skin—spaghetti straps revealing her slender collarbones and shoulders, the hem brushing her knees to show off a hint of soft, pale calf.
She knelt on the carpet and looked at the little eagle curled up on its mat, chewing raw meat. She reached out hesitantly but pulled back, nervous about the sharp beak.
Before she could try again, a pair of strong arms slipped around her from behind and picked her up without warning.
By the time she realized what was happening, she was already sitting on Atticus’s uninjured leg.
“What were you staring at?” he asked, voice low and amused.
“That little guy…”
Atticus snorted. “What’s so interesting about him?”
He tilted her chin up with one finger, forcing her to look at him. “You should be looking at me. I’m way prettier than that dumb bird.”
Clarissa flushed scarlet. She swatted at him, half embarrassed, half amused. “Idiot…”
He grinned, shameless. “Then… do you like me?”
Before she could answer, he pulled her in, her cheek pressed to his chest. His heartbeat thudded steadily beneath her ear.
Clarissa stiffened, then slowly, her hands crept up and clutched the collar of his robe.
“Clarissa?” he whispered, lips brushing her hair.
Atticus tightened his grip slightly around her waist.
Her waist was so slender that it fit easily into one of his hands. Sure enough, he felt her body shiver faintly, and then her voice, soft as a whisper, brushed against his ear.
“I like...”
If Atticus didn’t have sharper hearing than most, he might’ve missed it entirely.
His eyes darkened. “Say that again.”
“No—” Clarissa barely got the word out before he reached up, cradled the back of her head, and tilted her face up. His lips claimed hers without warning.
He didn’t expect her to say it a second time—she was too evasive for that. Their kiss deepened, tangled with heat and unspoken emotion, until they finally broke apart. Clarissa leaned against him, breathless, her face flushed with color. The pink in her cheeks made her look soft and almost dizzying.
Atticus looked down at her nestled in his arms, and the smile in his eyes deepened.
She was finally quiet. Finally soft. Obedient.
Clarissa, still catching her breath, suddenly glanced over to the side—only to see the little eagle on the mat staring at them.
Its head was tilted, sharp eyes filled with what looked like confusion.
She flushed even deeper, a mix of embarrassment and amusement creeping in. Then, as if remembering something, she spoke.
“Give it to David and the others. Once it recovers, release it back into the wild.”
“You don’t want to keep it?” Atticus asked, arching a brow.
“Keep it?” Clarissa blinked, then shook her head. “It’s an eagle, not a kitten.”
Atticus chuckled. “So? Have you forgotten the two animals living in the teacher’s house?”
“...”
At his words, Clarissa instantly recalled—Phoenix kept a black panther called Abyss, nearly two meters long, while Delilah’s pet was a white tiger weighing more than 600 kilograms.
Clarissa hesitated. “Do you like it?”
Without missing a beat, Atticus said flatly, “No. It’s ugly.”
Clarissa couldn’t help but laugh softly. “It’ll look better once it grows up.”
“Well, I still don’t like it,” he said lazily. “Too much trouble.”
“Then never mind. I don’t know how to raise pets either,” Clarissa said. “Give it to David for now.”
Atticus nodded. “Alright. It’s late. Let’s get to bed.”
He reached for her again, but Clarissa stopped him with a raised hand.
“I’m sleeping alone tonight.”
She stood quickly, putting space between them.
After what happened last night, she didn’t dare risk it again.
Young men his age… were just too full of hormones. If they kept sleeping in the same bed, it was only a matter of time before they crossed a line.
They still had half a year left.
Atticus opened his mouth to argue, but she silenced him by pressing her fingertip to his lips.
“Don’t say anything. You promised. Half a year. You’re not allowed to go back on your word.”
Then she picked up her bag and walked off, refusing to look back.
Atticus stayed seated, his eyes following her retreating figure—but he didn’t chase after her. He didn’t say a word. Only when he heard the soft sound of the door closing did a subtle gleam flicker in his eyes.
From the side, the little eagle peeked out.
The meat was gone, and the mat was stained with a trace of blood. It waddled forward, fluffing its feathers.
Atticus glanced down and poked it on the head. “God, you’re ugly. Ugly and filthy.”
He still couldn’t believe Clarissa had compared him to this bird.
The little creature, which had been snapping at Clarissa earlier, now nuzzled into Atticus’s hand obediently—curled up like a puffball, eyes half-closed, utterly relaxed as he absently stroked its head.