Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption by Lilyheart

Chapter 59: Let me see your legs?..

Jessica walking away had a faint smile on her lips. The night has been fruitful. She didn’t expect Desmond to come to the balcony—making him believe she was genuinely uncertain about Davis’s fate, that she was probing for answers because she lacked confidence in his recovery.

That was exactly what she wanted him to think.

Who would wish their enemy a long life, let alone a chance to rise again? His confidence in Davis’s permanent state of helplessness only confirmed what she had long suspected—he wanted Davis out of the picture entirely.

The more he assumed Davis was doomed, the less cautious he would be. He would slip, make mistakes—mistakes she could use to her advantage.

Desmond might have planned well but like the old man said she will remain an unknown factor in this battle of wits. Her naivety will be her best trump card.

~In another room~

Davis sat in his wheelchair at the center of the room he had been most familiar with, his bedroom from childhood till the time of his accident. His eyes slowly tracing the familiar furnishings and fittings with memories preserved on each of them.

The sky blue coloured wall, the large mahogany table sitting by the window with its surface polished by years of use was once a place he had read and studied on, several photos of the important people in his life were framed and placed on it.

The curtain had been carefully chosen by his mother, an embrace he will never get to hold again, he felt his heart hurt as the memories he never wanted to revisit surfaced.

The bookshelves lined the walls had books he had read and studied to be a better man whose parents should be proud of. Several awards standing on a space in the shelf, a reminder of his efforts and achievements which had all gone down the drain.

Time seemed to stand still in this room, as if the years had frozen in place, unwilling to move forward.

Each corner of the room held traces of the past he had left behind—echoes of laughter, whispered conversations, and moments of peace long lost to the changes that had swept over his life.

Davis rubbed his forehead lightly, his fingers pressing against the tension he

shut. She surveyed the room, taking in the simple vibrant decoration of the room that

photo frame, she walked slowly to the table as she studied each of the frame. They are all women but

his mother and sister. She remembered hearing someone say the Allen’s family daughter was missing and had not been

diminished by the wheelchair seemed to

asleep?" he asked softly, his voice breaking the silence

gaze remained fixed on Davis, observing the subtle changes

voice gentle and firm. He nodded lightly, thinking

He

frame in her hand. She had held the photo frame for a longer time because of its striking resemblance to her friend

came closer her hand on his shoulder "Are you okay?" She asked as she

palpable. In his still, cold, and colorless

quiet moment, every solitude, seemed to come alive in her presence, it’s

documents, her insistence that made him take a tour around the home he had long dreaded, her anger at him being called a

like now—dull and lifeless before, now radiating with something he

lifted his hand slowly holding her wrist gently and without a word, Davis pulled her onto his

skin, the scent belonging to her that he had gradually became accustomed to wrapped

that existed was the steady rhythm of her breath, the softness of her presence,

by a weak vulnerable soul—a quiet longing he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge for a long time

the shift in his mood almost immediately. The weight of his silence, the tightness

moved instinctively, patting his back with a soothing rhythm in a gentle reassurance, as though comforting a child.