Love Across the Light Years -The Devil CEO Indulges My Lies.-Chapter 75: Allergic.

Adelyn stared at herself in the mirror.

Something didn’t feel right.

She knew he had been about to leave —and stayed only because she asked him to.

And yet ...

It didn’t feel that simple.

A faint crease formed between her brows.

Why had he agreed so easily?

There hadn’t been a token of refusal. No hesitation. No polite insistence on leaving.

He had simply ... accepted.

As if that was all he had been waiting for.

For her to ask.

For her to be the one to step forward —willingly.

Her lips pressed in a thin line.

"Did I just get tricked?" she murmured under her breath. The thought lingered longer than she liked.

And just then —

A soft melody drifted in from the living room, light and rhythmic enough to pull her attention back.

She hadn’t forgotten —but it did remind her of what she still needed to do.

She had to get him something to change into.

Adelyn exhaled quietly and turned away from the mirror.

There was no point of overthinking now.

What had happened had already happened.

Straightening slightly, she walked toward her wardrobe and pulled it open. For a moment, she simply stood there, her gaze scanning the neatly arranged clothes.

She couldn’t exactly hand him one of her dresses and ask him to change into it.

He would probably have her head before she even figured out whether she was overthinking —or if he was actually up to something.

But if not for her dress ... then what?

Just as the thought settled, something clicked.

"Wait ... I do have something suitable," she muttered.

Her hands moved quickly, pushing aside hangers as she searched for something specific.

At first, she couldn’t find it.

But as she searched deeper —her fingers finally still.

At the very corner.

She pulled it out —a neatly folded pair of men’s clothes. A shirt and trousers.

Unworn.

She had bought them for Nigel ... but never found a chance to give them to him for obvious reasons.

For a moment, she studied the set, her eyes narrowing slightly.

The style might not suit Dylan.

But ... it would have to do.

It was the only decent pair of men’s clothes she had.

"This will do," she murmured softly.

Closing the wardrobe, she adjusted the clothes in her hands before turning toward the living room.

Outside —

Dylan was no longer on the sofa.

Her gaze shifted, and she caught sight of his silhouette near the corner, a phone pressed to his ear.

Eira, however, was exactly where she had been told say.

When the little girl looked up at her, Adelyn asked gently, "Are you feeling cold?"

Eira shook her head.

Then, noticing Adelyn’s still slightly damp hair, she asked, "Aunt Ade-lyn ... are you feeling cold?"

Adelyn smiled faintly and shook her head. "I’ve already changed. I’m fine now."

Just as she finished speaking, Dylan returned, ending his call.

The moment Adelyn saw him, she stepped forward and extended the clothes in her hands.

"Mr. Warren, if you find it suitable, please change into this."

Dylan’s gaze dropped to the shirt and trousers, staying on it for a moment.

"It’s not suitable," he said flatly.

Adelyn blinked, momentarily unsure if she heard him correctly.

But his expression remained firm.

Almost unyielding.

Though she had given him the choice, she had never though refusal was there in the option.

Her eyes fell to the clothes in her hands.

"Not suitable?" she repeated, genuinely confused.

She knew the style might not match what he usually wore —but was it really necessary to be particular in a situation like this?

For a moment, she didn’t even know how to respond.

Looking back at him, she tried to explain, "I know, Mr. Warren, this style might not be—"

"It’s not the style," Dylan cut in.

A brief silence followed.

Her brows only furrowed deeper.

She glanced at the clothes again, then back at him.

If not the style ... then what?

With the question clear in her eyes, she looked at him, waiting for him to answer...

"I’m allergic to wearing clothes meant for others."

Adelyn froze.

She opened her mouth to react —but then closed it again, at a complete loss for words.

Dylan didn’t rush her.

He simply stood there, waiting. Patient. Composed.

"But these haven’t even been worn," she said finally.

"It’s still the same," he replied evenly.

Adelyn fell silent.

How was it the same?

How could someone be allergic to the mere idea of something belonging to someone else?

It wasn’t realistic at all ...

It —

"You don’t believe me?" Dylan asked suddenly, as if reading her thoughts.

Adelyn stiffened, caught off guard.

A faint, awkward smile tugged at her lips as she quickly shook her head. "It’s not that I don’t believe you, Mr. Warren. It’s just ..." She hesitated, then added carefully, "I’m wondering what else you could wear, if not this."

She couldn’t very well admit that she found his whole allergy absurd.

"You don’t have to trouble yourself," Dylan said calmly, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets. "I can wear yours."

Adelyn was taken aback.

For a second, she simply stared at him, unsure if she had heard it right.

"My clothes?" she repeated. "Mr. Warren ... how could you wear my clothes? They won’t fit you."

However, Dylan remained entirely unfazed.

"You should have a few that would," he said nonchalantly.

Adelyn’s eyes narrowed slightly.

At first, she didn’t quite understand what he meant.

But then —

Something clicked.

Her expression shifted.

Her brows drew together, suspicion flashing clearly and evidently across her face.

Her fingers tightened around the clothes in her hand.

"How are you so sure?" she asked slowly, her voice losing its earlier politeness, "that I have clothes that would fit you, Mr. Warren?"

This was his first time here.

He had never seen her wardrobe.

They had never been close enough for him to know something like that.

And yet —

He sounded certain.

Too certain.

How was he so confident?