Requiem of a Broken Heart

Chapter 848:

Forcing himself to stay composed, he carried her toward the bedroom and gently laid her down on the bed.

Taking a step back, he willed himself to leave—but then, he felt a slight pull.

He looked down. Her hair had tangled around his shirt button. As he hesitated, working to free the delicate strands, he realized how close they were.

He could see every detail of her face—the flutter of her lashes, the softness of her skin.

And then there were her lips—faintly parted, their natural hue reminiscent of ripe fruit. His mind wandered dangerously.

His breathing grew uneven. He was losing control. As if drawn by an invisible force, he leaned in, his lips hovering just above hers. Then, in an instant, he snapped back, recoiling as if burned. A wave of guilt crashed over him.

“What the hell are you doing, Allan? Rachel’s asleep. She has no idea. Acting like this makes you no better than a jerk,” his mind berated him. After all, their marriage was nothing more than a facade.

as she stirred awake. Her stomach clenched with hunger—she

it much thought and padded to the dining

or Yvonne preparing breakfast, but when she spotted Allan emerging from the kitchen with a plate of

gⱯlnσν𝓮𝓁s․cøm fuels your imagination

did you get

home late last night. You were already asleep, so I didn’t

frowned slightly, thinking back. She distinctly remembered dozing off on the sofa—but waking up in bed. There was no doubt Allan had

must be starving. Go freshen up, then

daily routine had

ensured she left work on

her bury herself

he would