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 for her safety.

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longing for

danger, nothing else was more important than her safety,

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

extended beyond mere safety; it encompassed his

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,

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 lingering on the serenity etched upon her slumbering

mid–action, George found himself captivated by her presence, an

kiss her was strong, he hesitated, wary of

of his candid confession; would it weigh upon her, burdening

improvised performance for the fake Joshua earlier, the absence

dismissal of relationships as mere distractions–were they borne

of dwelling on matters of the heart at this hour,

unnecessary concerns.

matters of love, he resolved to spare her the tumult of

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Chaput Vit Prasha

towel to its place, he retraced his steps to

the covers, slipping beneath them with

begin to drift into slumber, Isabelle’s voice pierced the silence, her words laced

to

closed eyes. Did she

endearing, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Relief washed over him, knowing he hadn’t intruded upon her feigned slumber.

countered, “I’d gladly trade the bed for

to that extent; if she expressed

Isabelle’s silence lingered.

remained nestled