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Don't touch my Ex-wife
Last Updated:
2025-04-24 23:30:21
Latest chapter
Chasing The Stubborn Ex-Wife The Silent Comfort
The chilling tendrils of the nightmare clung to Evelyn even after she jolted awake. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the oppressive silence of the predawn hours. Images of betrayal, of being lost and alone in a vast, empty space, flashed behind her eyelids. The air in her room felt thick, suffocating. She needed to breathe, to escape the lingering terror of the dream. Carefully, so as not to wake Grandma or disturb the quiet house, Evelyn slipped out of bed. The wooden floorboards were cool beneath her bare feet as she padded softly towards the living room. The large sliding glass door leading to the veranda beckoned, promising fresh air and the cool embrace of the night. She pushed the door open, stepping out into the cool, pre-dawn air. A gentle breeze rustled through the garden, carrying the faint scent of jasmine. Evelyn wrapped her arms around herself, shivering slightly, not just from the cold, but from the lingering fear. She hugged herself tighter,
Chasing The Stubborn Ex-Wife A Symphony of Small Repairs
The air in Grandma’s house, once thick with unspoken tension, was now imbued with a fragile, burgeoning warmth. Evelyn, despite her lingering fears, found herself gradually letting go, her rigid defenses softening with each passing day. Hunter’s quiet, consistent efforts were no longer just about seeking forgiveness; they were about a profound, unwavering commitment to making her feel truly seen, deeply loved, and utterly safe. He was not merely rebuilding trust; he was trying to mend the very fabric of their shared life, piece by painstaking piece. One morning, Evelyn awoke to a soft, tinkling melody. It was faint, barely audible, but unmistakably familiar. She pushed herself up, her heart thumping, and looked towards her nightstand. There, bathed in the gentle morning light, sat her old music box. The delicate antique, which she had found broken years ago and stored away, was now gleaming, its tiny ballerina poised. As she watched, the ballerina slowly twirled, its delicate tune fi
Chasing The Stubborn Ex-Wife A kiss
The dim light of the bedside lamp cast a soft glow on Evelyn’s sleeping face. Hunter knelt beside the bed, his hand hovering inches from her cheek, his heart a raw, aching knot in his chest. He watched her, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the peaceful curve of her lips. The temptation to bridge the distance, to finally give in to the overwhelming surge of longing that consumed him, became an unbearable weight. He had resisted for so long, had promised himself he would earn her trust, earn the right to touch her again, but in her vulnerability, in the quiet intimacy of the room, his resolve fractured. His gaze dropped to her lips, soft and slightly parted. He leaned in, slowly, irresistibly, drawn by a force he could no longer control. His breath ghosted over her skin, light and warm. He closed the last inch, his lips gently, tenderly, brushing against hers. It was a feather-light touch, a hesitant whisper of a kiss, a desperate plea for connection. For a fleeting second, a p
Chasing The Stubborn Ex-Wife Temptation
The morning sun, usually a gentle balm, felt like a harsh, unwelcome glare through Evelyn’s curtains. She stirred, a wave of nausea washing over her, churning her stomach with unsettling ferocity. Her head throbbed, a dull, insistent drumbeat behind her eyes, and her limbs felt strangely heavy, leaden. She pushed herself up, a groan escaping her lips as the room spun momentarily. Just a little lightheaded, she tried to convince herself, a bad night's sleep. But she knew it was more. She managed to make her way to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face, trying to quell the rising queasiness. Her reflection looked pale, her eyes shadowed. When she finally descended the stairs for breakfast, moving slower than usual, Hunter was already in the dining room with Grandma, a cup of steaming tea in his hand. He looked up as she entered, his gaze immediately sharpening, an almost imperceptible flicker of concern in his eyes. "Good morning, Evie," he said, his voice quiet, his usual m
Chasing The Stubborn Ex-Wife The language of love
The days at Grandma’s house continued their gentle unfurling, each passing moment weaving a delicate tapestry of quiet care and subtle shifts. Evelyn’s emotional fortress, though still formidable, was no longer impenetrable. Hunter’s consistent, unwavering presence, devoid of demands or expectations, was slowly, meticulously, eroding her defenses. He was now doing things he had never done before in their past, smaller, more intimate gestures that spoke a language Evelyn had always yearned for but rarely heard from him. Her mornings began with a silent ritual. Each day, a tray with her favorite herbal tea, steeped to perfection, would appear by her bedside. Beside the steaming mug, a hand-written note would lie, sometimes just a few words, sometimes a simple drawing. The first note had read: "Good morning, Evie. Hope you slept well. Tea is ginger and lemon today – for comfort." His handwriting, usually a hurried scrawl on business documents, was neat, almost painstaking. Evelyn stare
Chasing The Stubborn Ex-Wife The slow thaw
Days bled into weeks at Grandma’s house, each one a testament to the quiet, almost imperceptible shift in the atmosphere between Evelyn and Hunter. The initial sharp edges of her anger had softened into a dull ache, a pervasive sadness that lingered, but no longer consumed her. She still carried the weight of past hurts, the phantom pain of neglect, but Hunter’s unwavering presence and his meticulous, unobtrusive care had begun to chip away at her defenses. Evelyn no longer actively avoided him. The elaborate detours through the house, the hurried retreats to her room when she sensed his approach, had ceased. She accepted his presence, a silent acknowledgment of his role in her healing. When he offered a glass of water, she took it. When he silently adjusted the pillow behind her head while she read, she didn't flinch away. She might not offer a smile, or initiate conversation, but the outright rejection was gone, replaced by a quiet, watchful acceptance. Hunter, for his part, ma
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