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

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longing for a

in the face of danger, nothing else was more important than her safety, even

creation of man, impervious to the whims of ghosts or deities. Yet, when it came to Isabelle, the narrative

wish extended beyond mere safety;

lay ensconced in the comfort of their shared space, the rhythm of George’s shower serving as

from his ablutions, he found her lying there, eyes shut in peaceful repose. His movements were gentle as he draped the blanket over her form, his gaze

himself captivated by her presence, an inexplicable desire stirring within

he hesitated, wary of disrupting her rest or unsettling her peace.

mind drifted to the aftermath of his candid confession; would it weigh

performance for the fake Joshua earlier, the absence of a script, lingered in

of relationships as mere distractions–were they borne of the moment’s heat, or did

the futility of dwelling on matters of the heart at this hour, George quelled his burgeoning apprehensions, unwilling to burden himself with

unnecessary concerns.

her unfamiliarity with matters of love, he resolved to spare her the tumult of his emotions. With a determined exhale, he

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Chaput Vit Prasha

he

lifted the covers,

her words laced with

hadn’t succumbed to

her gaze, George observed her closed eyes. Did she

faint smile tugging at his lips. Relief washed over him, knowing he hadn’t

bed for the couch, but alas, it’s

hadn’t matured to that extent; if

Isabelle’s silence lingered.

George remained nestled in the sheets.