บททั้งหมดของ Lawfully Wedded Nanny (BWWM): บทที่ 191 - บทที่ 200

They chose a small café shaded by broad-leafed trees, the kind where time seemed to slow on purpose.Elara stirred her drink too much. Monet noticed because she was doing the same.For a while, they talked about nothing.The weather. How beautiful the island was. How easy it felt to forget the rest of the world here. Elara spoke about visiting relatives, about taking time off school before deciding what came next. Monet listened, nodding, smiling at the right places, careful not to give too much of herself away.Still, every word felt weighted.“You live far from here?” Monet asked eventually.Elara nodded. “Yes. Different continent entirely. I grew up moving around a lot.” She shrugged. “I don’t really belong to any one place.”The words struck too close.“I know that feeling,” Monet said softly before she could stop herself.Elara’s gaze sharpened, curious but gentle. “You do?”Monet hesitated. Careful, she warned herself. “In a way.”They fell quiet again.The sea murmured behind t

The call came just as the sun was dipping low over the water. A big grin automatically covered her lips as Monet balanced the tablet against a stack of books on the balcony table, the breeze lifting her hair as the screen flickered to life. For a heartbeat, she saw only Florence’s ceiling—then laughter burst through the speakers. “Mommy!” Carter’s face filled the screen, far too close, his nose pressed almost flat against the camera. “You’re squishing it,” Meredith scolded from somewhere off-screen., her tone an exact replica of Richard's. “Grandma Florence said, ’ Don’t break it.” “I’m not breaking it,” Carter argued. “I’m just looking.” Monet laughed despite herself, the sound light, almost normal. “I can see you just fine, sweetheart. Back up a little.” Florence appeared then, composed as ever, silver hair perfectly set, eyes already scanning Monet in a way that felt far too knowing. “There,” Florence said calmly, guiding Carter back with one hand and positioning the t

The night settled slowly, as if the island itself were reluctant to disturb them.Monet remained where she was, tucked against Richard’s side, her cheek resting near his collarbone, listening to the steady proof of him—his breathing, his warmth, the subtle rise and fall beneath her ear. The ocean below the balcony murmured in long, patient rhythms, waves folding into one another without urgency, without demand.It occurred to her then that she wasn’t bracing. No clenched jaw. No counting exits. No silent rehearsals for pain. Just stillness.That realization frightened her more than the questions ever had.Richard didn’t move. He had learned, over the months, the exact weight of stillness Monet needed when her thoughts turned inward. Too much closeness felt like pressure. Too much distance felt like retreat. So he stayed exactly where he was present without insistence, available without expectation.Her fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his shirt, more reflex than intention. T

Elara’s message arrived when Monet wasn’t looking for it.Her phone was face down on the bedside table, the room dim except for the spill of lamplight and the distant hush of waves beyond the balcony doors. Monet had just finished showering, her hair still damp, wrapped in one of the villa’s oversized robes, when the screen lit up.One notification. Unknown contact. For a moment, she didn’t move.Some instincts lived deeper than thought.When she finally turned the phone over, her pulse had already begun to quicken.Elara:I hope this isn’t strange. But I couldn't stay away, I need to speak with you. Monet sat down slowly on the edge of the bed.She told herself she could ignore it. That silence was a boundary too. That wanting peace didn’t make her cowardly.But curiosity wasn’t what pulled her fingers to the screen. Recognition was.Monet:It’s not strange. I’ve been thinking too but I did tell you I don't want to unpack anything now. Three dots appeared almost instantly. The

Monet didn’t know she was being watched.She was standing just inside a shaded boutique off the main strip, fingers brushing over light cotton dresses she didn’t need, trying to decide if she wanted something yellow or something forgettable. The shop smelled faintly of citrus and incense, doors open to the sea breeze and passing voices. She felt almost normal.That should have warned her.“Excuse me,” a man’s voice said behind her. Polite. Cultured. American. Mildly amused.She stepped aside automatically, murmuring an apology she didn’t need to give.“No, no—my fault,” he replied easily. “I forget how narrow these places are.”She glanced up. He was handsome in an effortless way. Not striking at first glance, but the kind of man people remembered later. Warm brown eyes. A smile that arrived fast and left slowly. Something self-assured in his posture, as though the world rarely refused him.He nodded once, friendly. Passing. And then he stopped. Just a fraction too late.His gaze