Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption by Lilyheart

Chapter 212: My thanks...

The room was dimly lit, the faint glow from the bedside lamp casting warm shadows on the walls. Davis and Jessica cuddled in each other’s embrace as they savoured every inch of each other’s body.

By the time he reluctantly let her go, Jessica had no strength left. Her limbs felt like jelly, her breathing soft and even as she drifted into sleep without realizing it.

Davis, however, didn’t sleep. Instead, he took his time, lying on his side and observing the woman beside him.

Jessica’s face was relaxed in slumber, her cheeks flushed, her lips rosy and swollen from his kiss yet inviting.

He had memorized every curve, every detail of her face and might be able to draw it with his eyes shut, but somehow, with each passing day, she became even more captivating.

Her beauty wasn’t just physical; it shone from within, glowing brighter the more time he spent with her.

He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

His heart ached deeply as he stared at her. "Will you ever rest and not worry about my affairs?" he whispered, his voice barely audible, yet filled with emotion.

Though his tone was soft, his mind was filled with mixed emotions. He was grateful—grateful beyond words that she came into his life at his lowest moment, had existed in his life and had cared deeply for him.

had gone through—betrayals, disappointment and even isolation. But at

age were still figuring out their path, attending university lectures, partying, or scrolling endlessly through social media, but Jessica had already shouldered

injuries, she still joined hands

battles. Still put his needs first. It frustrated him, not because of what she did, but because he didn’t want her to carry this

his brow, the frustration and helplessness evident on his face. His eyes briefly moved to the table where she had been working earlier before he had

files open, and her designs half-drafted. She had been so focused, determined. And yet, she allowed herself to be distracted, concerned about

He made his way to the bathroom, filled a

wiping the sweat from her body. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if every touch was

she could get if she was awake—her cheeks always turned a lovely shade of red, and she would often cover her face or grumble

felt like a task he wanted to perfect. He didn’t rush it.

he was done, he placed the bowl aside and returned to the bathroom to take a cold shower himself, trying to cool

wrapped himself in a robe and walked over to the table. Sitting down, he looked through the documents and files she

he made decisions where needed, left

her while she worked on designs, pretending not to be interested, though his

picked up a pencil and, with steady hands,

a sudden thought, he began drawing a new one from scratch. His

brief word yet it couldn’t actually express how he felt. He stared at the sketch for a