Resurrecting the Genius Within

Behitrecting the genius Witton

Chapter 451 Present

Yeah, I’d rather feed the dogs.

He always works to get what he wants.

George’s gaze locked with hers, a gentle conviction in his deep voice as he uttered, “Even sans the cake, dreams find their way.” He paused, sincerity coloring his words. “This year, my birthday wish still echoes for your well–being.”

Isabelle’s serene eyes flitted with understanding.

His sincerity mirrored in his eyes as he spoke softly, “Remember last year? You gave me your wish last year, and I’ll add that to this one; both entwined with the thread of your safety.”

Isabelle’s lips parted slightly, curiosity gleaming, “What was your original intention

then?”

George confessed, his gaze momentarily averted, “Originally, it was selfish, but now, your safety encompasses my greatest selfish desire.”

“Not the answer to my question,” Isabelle said.

With a slight dip of his gaze, George confessed, “To wish for your affection.”

In Liam’s castle, that was his initial thought, yet her gift of wish was too precious, untouched by his reluctance, a testament to his resolve to earn it himself.

Isabelle remained composed, “And?”

In retrospect, it felt superfluous, thus remained dormant, untouched.

There was a moment of silence before George spoke with solemnity, “To ask for your hand in marriage.”

In the vicinity of Isabelle’s abode, beneath the canopy of stars, she halted him, sealing the moment with a kiss. In that fleeting embrace, hope blossomed, intertwining with the desire for a promising future together, the fervent wish to make her his wife soaring within him..

was simply

1/4

longing for a shared future.

nothing else was more important than her safety, even his wish of taking

of man, impervious to

beyond mere safety; it encompassed his

the comfort of their shared space, the rhythm of George’s shower serving as a backdrop

lying there, eyes shut in peaceful repose. His movements were gentle as he draped the blanket over her form, his gaze lingering on the serenity etched upon her slumbering

himself captivated by her presence, an inexplicable desire

was strong, he hesitated, wary of disrupting her rest or unsettling her

confession; would it weigh

improvised performance for the fake Joshua earlier, the

distractions–were

this hour, George quelled

unnecessary concerns.

the tumult of his emotions. With a determined exhale, he relinquished the weight

2/4

Chaput Vit Prasha

its place, he retraced

gently lifted the covers, slipping beneath them

slumber, Isabelle’s voice pierced the silence, her words laced with a hint of playfulness, “Mr. Harris, your bed–entry skills

hadn’t succumbed to sleep’s embrace.

closed eyes.

charade endearing, a faint smile tugging at his

“I’d gladly trade the bed for the couch,

matured to that extent; if she

Isabelle’s silence lingered.

remained nestled in the