All Chapters of Fated love: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

‎The glow of the evening sun spilled softly through the curtains, bathing Claire’s room in amber light. She lay on her bed, one leg crossed lazily over the other, her phone in hand as she scrolled through endless feeds—half reading, half thinking. The gentle hum of the ceiling fan filled the quiet space, brushing against her hair like a whisper. It was one of those still moments, fragile and peaceful, when the world seemed far away.‎‎The door creaked open without warning.‎‎Cleo’s familiar voice broke the calm.‎“Mind explaining when you met Mr. Handsome?” she asked teasingly, her tone laced with mischief as she plopped down beside Claire on the bed, bouncing lightly on the mattress.‎‎Claire blinked, startled, then sighed with an exasperated smile tugging at her lips. She knew that tone—knew her best friend wouldn’t stop until she got every detail. Cleo’s grin widened as she elbowed Claire playfully.‎‎“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me, Claire. Start talking.”‎‎Claire lowered

‎Edward turned slightly, his gaze softening when it fell on Claire. She still stood near the doorway, her eyes fixed on the spot where his mother had just exited, her expression a tangle of embarrassment and quiet frustration. The corners of his lips lifted faintly as he reached for her, his hand settling with casual possessiveness on her waist.‎‎“I’m sorry on her behalf,” he murmured, his voice a deep baritone that seemed to vibrate through her ribs.‎‎Claire stiffened at the sudden warmth of his palm against her waist. Her heart skipped, but her eyes narrowed instead. “Sir, you see what you’ve caused,” she said sharply, her tone laced with annoyance though her pulse betrayed her.‎‎Edward frowned at her choice of words — sir. It sounded too formal, too far away from what he wanted her to call him. He leaned closer, bending slightly until they were almost eye-to-eye. The faint scent of his cologne — cedar and something darker — drifted between them.‎‎“What did I tell you before

‎The week drifted by in a blur of sunrises and laughter, the kind of days that slipped through one’s fingers without notice. Before they knew it, another weekend had arrived—warm, bright, and promising. Cleo and Claire had planned for it since Tuesday: a long overdue shopping day, just the two of them.‎‎Claire was already ready, sitting cross-legged on the couch, scrolling idly through her phone. Her soft hair brushed her shoulders, and the morning light spilled across her skin in a mellow glow. From the hallway came faint humming—Cleo’s voice, cheerful and tuneless as always, muffled behind her bedroom door.‎‎Claire smiled at the familiar sound before calling out, “Cleo! Do you plan to spend the whole day doing makeup? You’ll make the shops close before we get there!”‎‎From inside came a muffled laugh. “Almost done! Don’t rush me—you know I’m not used to getting dressed fast!”‎‎Claire rolled her eyes and sighed, though her smile never faded. “That’s what you said last week!”

‎The soft buzz of conversation and the low hum of music filled the cafe terrace where Ryan sat with his friends. Laughter echoed, glasses clinked, and for a while, everything seemed peaceful — until his phone screen lit up with Cleo’s name.‎One message.‎Short, direct.‎Urgent.‎‎Ryan’s expression shifted instantly. His smile faded, replaced by a hard focus that made his friends pause mid-sentence.‎He didn’t even explain; he simply stood, sliding his chair back with quiet force. “Excuse me,” he muttered, his voice low but carrying an edge that told them not to ask questions.‎‎Outside, the air was sharp with the scent of city dust and fuel. Ryan’s long strides ate the distance to his car, his jaw set, the faint reflection of streetlights glinting off his watch as he unlocked the door. He started the engine and pulled out in a burst of speed that startled a passerby.‎He didn’t care.‎Cleo’s message had said enough — her tone, her brevity. Something was wrong.‎‎‎---‎‎At the ma

The faint scent of antiseptic still lingered in the air as the sun began to tilt westward, painting a warm amber hue across the hospital parking lot. The day had stretched thin for both of them — moments filled with worry, silence, and the subtle ache that only fatigue could bring.‎‎After Nicole woke, Edward gently took Claire’s hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in quiet reassurance as they stepped out of the automatic doors. The air outside was crisp, almost cleansing after the sterile chill of the hospital corridors. Claire squinted slightly as the sunlight touched her face, her expression soft yet distant, her thoughts clearly far away.‎‎“Do you have a plan?” Edward asked, breaking the silence, his deep voice laced with tenderness and a concern that came too naturally when it came to her.‎‎His hand didn’t leave hers even as they crossed the parking lot — as though afraid she might drift away if he let go. When they reached his sleek black car, Edward opened the door