Sold To The Alphas I Hate novel Chapter 63

Chapter 63: You Have A Beautiful Hair

Roman’s POV

The next day passed in silence between us. After what had happened last night, I didn’t speak much, only offering help when she needed it. Her toes were still injured, making it difficult for her to walk properly.

I bathed her again that morning and set her long hair as she sat in front of the mirror, her expression vacant and distant.

Along with comb, my fingers gently ran through her strands. Her beautiful platinum-brown hair had always been one of her defining features. Even now, despite how broken and fragile she seemed, her hair remained just as stunning. The only difference was that it had grown even longer—falling well past her waist and ends needed trimming.

"You have beautiful hair," I murmured, unable to hold back the compliment, though it was something I never dared to say in the past.

She looked at me through the mirror, her eyes heavy with disbelief, as if silently calling me a liar.

Even if she cursed me with that look, it was better than the hollow, unreadable gaze she often gave—one that told me I meant absolutely nothing to her.

I gave her a soft smile. "I know what you’re thinking," I said, knowing full well she wouldn’t respond. "I used to say your hair looked like a horse’s tail... even smelled like one."

She turned her gaze away, a frown forming between her brows. She remembered. And she still hated me for it.

"What I said back then... I never really meant it," I admitted, continuing to run my fingers through the silky strands. "I teased you whenever you braided your hair because I liked it when it was left open. You looked beautiful with your hair down."

She said nothing.

I continued anyway. "All that bullying... it was just to get your attention. Because I really did like you back then."

But my words meant nothing to her now. Not even a flicker of emotion passed through her face.

I sighed. "I know... it was the worst possible way to show it. I was a jackass. You can call me that, or anything else you want. I’ll take it."

Still, she remained silent. I didn’t press her.

I walked over to the cupboard and retrieved a bag. "I ordered some clothes for you yesterday," I said as I brought it over. "Your wounds are healing now, so you can wear something more comfortable."

I removed the undergarments, setting the bra aside. "You can’t wear this yet. The wounds on your chest might still hurt." I handed her panties and a dress—a simple, soft cotton piece in a peach shade, knee-length and loose, gentle enough not to irritate her bruised skin.

She held the clothes quietly while I helped her dress. Unwrapping the towel from her body, I guided her arms into the sleeves. She let out a soft groan as she lifted her arms.

Her chest still hurt.

Liam had said she would heal soon, so there was nothing to worry about.

The loose-fitting dress looked beautiful on her. The soft peach hue complemented her pale skin perfectly, casting a gentle glow over her delicate features.

Once ready, I said, "Today we’re having breakfast outside. You need some sunlight. It will help you feel better."

As always, I didn’t wait for a response. Instead, I carefully lifted her into my arms and carried her out of the house.

Just beyond the front patio, the ground was blanketed in a neat green lawn. I had already arranged a comfortable chair for her to sit in, angled just right to catch the morning sun. Gently, I placed her on it.

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