From Broken to Beloved-Chapter 90- explain

To be honest, Catherine did mind his past—at least a little.

But in this moment, that discomfort seemed to dissolve, made insignificant by the sincerity in his confession.

She could feel it—his honesty. Even if his past was disgraceful, he was still willing to uncover it, to lay it bare before her.

If he didn’t truly care, who would willingly reveal such wounds?

"I—"

He seemed to want to go on. His expression looked as composed as usual, but when Catherine looked carefully, she noticed a faint trace of panic in his eyes.

What was he afraid of?

Afraid that she would reject him even more because of what he had done?

In Catherine’s impression, he had always been someone lofty, always composed. Yet now, he was panicking—because of her.

She couldn’t quite describe what she felt, only that... for some reason, it made her heart ache a little.

So she cut him off before he could finish speaking.

"I’m not interested in what your past was like."

The panic in his eyes grew even more obvious at her words. Maybe because her tone was calm—perhaps he thought she was about to say something harsh.

But she simply looked at him and said softly,

"I just need to know what kind of person you are now. That’s enough."

He froze for a second, then suddenly his eyes curved, and a smile blossomed across his face.

Catherine turned her gaze away from the deepening smile on his lips.

She had only said she didn’t mind his past anymore—why was he smiling that much?

It was with a smile in his voice that he murmured by her ear,

"Come on, let’s go pick something to eat."

Catherine hurried toward the table, but he suddenly tugged her back, pulling her into his arms and lowering his head to kiss her.

His lips pressed firmly against hers, his breath warm and overwhelming, and Catherine’s own breath quickly fell into chaos.

Bert kissed her simply because he was in too good a mood.

In all his thirty-six years, when he confessed his shameful past moments ago, he had truly been nervous—truly anxious. He had genuinely feared she would find him filthy, that she would despise him.

But thankfully, she was so warm, so forgiving.

If he had known he would one day meet someone like her, he would have spent the first thirty years of his life trying to be a better man—a gentler, kinder man.

Just as Bert tried to deepen the kiss, a sudden knock sounded from outside the door. The waiter, noticing they still hadn’t ordered after entering the room for so long, had come over to check.

The two of them were standing right by the door, wrapped in each other’s arms and kissing.

The abrupt knocking startled Catherine badly, pulling her out of the haze Bert had drawn her into. Face burning red, she pushed him away and rushed to the table, sitting down in a fluster.

Bert glanced at her flushed cheeks, then opened the door and stepped out to order for them, giving her a quiet moment and sparing her the embarrassment of facing the waiter with that crimson face.

At the table, Catherine was filled with frustration.

How did this keep happening? Why did Bert always end up kissing her whenever they met—

and worse, why did she never truly resist?

Just now, she had even... liked his kiss.

Because in that warmth, she felt cherished, protected... loved.

"This isn’t right... this isn’t right—"

She muttered to herself in vexation.

She shouldn’t fall for a man like him.

What qualifications did she have to hold onto someone like Bert?

If she really opened her heart, and one day things ended... the one who’d be hurt would be her.

After the painful disaster that was her relationship with Gerald, Catherine had become timid, fearful.

Afraid of being hurt again, afraid of pouring her whole heart out only to be betrayed.

Not every woman can love bravely again and again.

And Catherine was someone who loved deeply—too deeply.

She feared that if she were hurt once more, she might never be able to stand up again.

When Bert returned after placing their order, the frustration on Catherine’s face still hadn’t faded.

Bert was far too perceptive—noticing it instantly, he could already guess exactly what she was troubled over.

But he pretended not to see a thing as he walked over and sat down across from her.

By now, he no longer intended to push her for an answer. Even if she didn’t give him a direct reply, her words to Lucca—and the things she’d just said to him—already spoke loudly enough.

Her heart was clearly with him.

There was nothing left for him to rush.

Whether she gave him a formal answer or not, escaping him was no longer an option.

As Bert settled into his seat, Catherine glanced up—and immediately caught sight of his hand.

Of the ring on his finger.

The one she had designed.

Her face flushed even hotter.

Noticing her gaze lingering on the ring, Bert intentionally teased her.

"The ring looks great on me. Perfect fit."

"It feels like it was tailor-made just for me. Seems you really put a lot of thought into it."

Catherine glared at him, furious.

Did he have to twist the meaning of the gift like this?

Was teasing her the only way he felt satisfied?

Bert chuckled softly, then smoothly changed the subject.

"Tomorrow’s welcome party—I’ll pick you up at your place."

The moment he mentioned the party, Catherine’s head began to ache. She truly didn’t want to go. She had a bad feeling—some instinct telling her that in a room full of people, he would end up doing something again. Something dramatic, something she couldn’t handle.

She was completely terrified of him now—in this particular sense.

He had invited her to lunch in front of Silvia and Amy just this afternoon, and she still had no idea how she was supposed to explain that when she got back.