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..

wish was simply for her safety.

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his longing for

danger, nothing else was more important than her

steadfast in his belief that destiny was a creation of man, impervious to the whims of ghosts or deities. Yet,

safety; it

lay ensconced in the comfort of their shared space, the rhythm of George’s shower serving as a backdrop to her reverie. Her gaze wandered upward,

movements were gentle as he draped the

her presence, an inexplicable desire stirring within him.

her was strong, he hesitated,

to the aftermath of his candid confession; would it weigh upon her, burdening her with unwanted

their improvised performance for the fake Joshua earlier, the absence

of relationships as mere distractions–were they borne of

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

unnecessary concerns.

resolved to spare her the tumult of

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Chaput Vit Prasha

place, he retraced

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 are improving by the

hadn’t succumbed to

closed eyes. Did she

a faint smile tugging at his lips.

for the couch, but alas,

if

Isabelle’s silence lingered.

nestled in the