Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption by Lilyheart

Chapter 140: She might be a clue...

The drive back home was calm and peaceful. After the whirlwind of emotions, and time in the operating room, and contemplation that had swept through her day, Jessica felt drained and tired.

Her body ached, but it was her heart that bore the heaviest weight of worry, heartache and fear of the future.

Totally drained and weak, she felt nothing than to lie down and have a good sleep but then they are in the car and the only improvisation, she glanced subtly at Davis.

With a sigh, she leaned into Davis’s shoulder, nestling herself comfortably into his embrace. Davis slowly adjusted and pulled her to himself making her head rest on his while his arms enveloped her to himself.

She closed her eyes, finding comfort and warmth in the familiar rise and fall of his breath, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his shirt, the quiet strength he exuded even in stillness made her feel safe and comfortable.

The gentle hum of the engine and the subtle swaying of the car felt like a lullaby, rocking her into a sense of peace.

For a brief moment, she allowed herself to believe that everything was alright, that her world will finally experience peace and tranquility, that the warmth in the arms of her beloved will be her solace shielding her at all time. But then —

Tranquility was fleeting, the peace she expected fragile because it didn’t last for long.

Without warning, Lady Matilda’s image surfaced in her mind’s eye, vivid and clear. The memory of Lady Matilda’s embrace enveloping in a hug that had been inexplicably warm and exuding comfort that seems comfortable in her memory.

inexplicably familiar as Matilda looked at her with

opened her eyes, her

she didn’t expect. She felt—worry about a stranger she

had perceived from her. A faint trace of a floral scent which is still trying to assess. That scent has been fleeting, but it struck a chord

known that scent before? Not just

to connect the threads, "I wish I would have the time to see her again, to perceive that scent again and finally make judgement,

"my mother wears that scent, it was her favorite." She

had worn even on her death day. The sudden recall of that familiar scent transported her back to the past stirring on the emotions

hand brushing softly along her upper arm as though it was silent promise that he was there. With

body, the moment her body trembled lightly and her openedfelt her, he sensed the unease rippling through

as though afraid that too much volume would shatter

couldn’t hold his gaze for long. Her

didn’t fully understand herself? How could she speak about the way Lady Matilda’s presence had shaken her to her core, made her question things she hadn’t dared think about in years? "How will she tell him she found her arms oddly comforting as though she was being hugged and

"It’s nothing," she whispered,

gaze tracing the lines of stress and confusion