My Coldhearted Ex demands a Remarriage by Eva Blackwood

Chapter 366:

Afterward, she felt dizzy. As she stood up, her legs shook weakly. He chuckled, “I’ll sign you up for a gym membership. You need to exercise more to improve your stamina. You are so weak.”

Carrie noticed that his cheeks now held a healthy flush. Gone was the pallor of his hospital stay; he looked robust, nothing like a man who had recently brushed against death. She eyed him skeptically. “Were you really that badly hurt?”

Kristopher leaned back against the headboard with a sigh. “It turns out I am quite sick. I’m already exhausted after just a short while.”

He glanced at Carrie and added, “My main artery was nearly cut through. I was on the verge of dying. Do you understand the gravity of severing an artery? It’s a common way for someone to commit suicide.”

asked with a frown, “Is there a major

artery, runs through the armpit, and along the lower edge of the latissimus dorsi muscle, becoming the brachial

literature student, you should still know a bit of basic biology, shouldn’t you?

of detailed medical terminology made it unlikely that he was fabricating the story. “I’m going to take a shower first. Stay here, and I’ll help you clean up afterward. Remember, your wound can’t get wet, so no bathing.” As she started moving toward the bathroom, Kristopher’s phone began

pouted and said, “That was years ago. Who remembers all that?” Her body was sore, and she was in no mood to debate further with Kristopher. His use of detailed medical terminology made it seem unlikely that he was

I’ll help you clean up

to the bathroom, Kristopher’s phone started to ring. Seeing that she was closer, she quickly interjected, “Don’t move, I’ll answer it.” She limped over to pick up the phone, then hesitated. The caller ID displayed Lise’s name. She suddenly remembered the unresolved

on the other end of that call. His teasing grin faded, replaced by concern as he softly uttered, “Carrie…” Compelled by his tone, Carrie set aside her reservations and approached the bedside, phone in hand. With a serene composure, unlike her usual fiery self, she extended the phone toward him. There was no bite in her voice, no spark of argument, only a tranquil stare. Kristopher locked eyes with her for a brief moment, on the verge of refusing the call, but the words lodged in his throat. An internal voice, anxious for Lise, nudged him forward. He accepted the phone with a reluctant hand and swiped to answer. “What’s going on, Lise?” His tone naturally softened, imbued with a gentle patience exclusively reserved for her. Regardless of the