All Chapters of Mated To My Obsessive Stepbrother: Chapter 231 - Chapter 235

KASMINE.Was it okay to say I was a bit nervous?Yeah. It was.I wasn't a virgin anymore. Heck, Kester was the one who disvirgined me. I was carrying his babies, for God's sake! So why the hell was my stomach doing flips knowing what was about to happen tonight?The bathroom door slid open, and Kester stepped out, water still dripping from his skin. My eyes followed the trail — broad shoulders, hard chest, those deep grooves that dipped into his hips… and no towel.My heart stuttered. My throat went dry.I shifted on the bed, trying to sit up, but his smirk told me he'd noticed the effect he had on me."There is no need, Mine," he said in a rough voice, "I'll meet you there." He took excruciatingly slow steps toward me, and I let out a nervous smile. My thighs pressed together on instinct.We'd had a long day. We attended to a lot of visitors and congratulations, but Kester made sure I didn't overwork myself one bit. The moment he sensed the tiniest bit of exhaustion on my face, he br

KASMINE.Ever heard of the word crazy?Kester Hamilton was crazy. The man had gotten me a wedding dress even before I’d come to terms with the idea of ever being with him.Speak of positivity and determination.And it fit perfectly. The intricate designs, theI stared at my reflection in the mirror, and God knows I was doing everything in my power not to shed a tear. I didn’t want to ruin my makeup for the second time today. My chest was tight, and my hands fidgeted in my lap as the maids moved around me.And then my gaze slid down the gown again. It was impossible not to. The fabric shimmered faintly under the lights. Kester had a maddening talent for choosing the best of everything — and this dress was proof. He didn’t just have good taste; he had unforgiving taste.Everyone busied themselves, putting the final touches on my hair, my face, my dress — every detail had to be perfect. The rustle of silk, the faint scent of fresh flowers, the click of heels across the floor — it all mad

KESTER.SIX MONTHS LATER.It was late afternoon, and the rain outside was heavy.Dr. Ansel leaned back in his chair with his legs crossed neatly as usual, pen resting on the edge of his yellow notepad, and his ugly glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.Me? My arms were locked tight across my chest, like I was holding something broken inside me together."So that's it," I muttered in a flat but tight voice. "Six months. I showed up. I talked. I didn't throw a chair through your window. I didn't burn the place down. I'm still standing. That should be good enough."Dr. Ansel studied me the way a surgeon studies an open wound with curiosity, patience, and a little too steady for comfort.He tilted his head, calm as ever. "Is it good enough for you?" he asked.I didn't answer. I looked toward the rain dripping down the glass like the sky was leaking secrets it never wanted to share."I didn't come here to cry on couches or to get soft," I muttered. "I came here to get my shit together