THE PREGNANT GIRL AND THE RUTHLESS HEIR のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 161 - チャプター 170

GesareThe drive home was unbearably quiet.The kind of quiet that settled between two people who desperately wanted to speak but no longer knew which words belonged to them.I sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the lake disappeared behind us asTrees blurred into one another.The sky had begun to darken, heavy clouds gathering overhead as if the world itself couldn't decide whether to hold back or break.It suited my mood.Neither of us had said a word since we left the lake house.Cliff had stayed behind with Diane, they were going to drive up together, neither of them had tried to stop us when we left, there was nothing left to say.Kumba kept both hands on the steering wheel, his knuckles white against the leather.His eyes never left the road.I wondered if he was seeing it at all.Or if, like me, he was somewhere else entirely.Back in that lake house.Back in a confession that had shattered both our lives.A tear slid down my cheek before I realized I was crying

GesareBy the time we got home, the afternoon sun had begun to sink behind the trees.Neither of us spoke much during the drive from the hospital. There wasn't anything left to say.The silence between us wasn't empty anymore.It was simply tired.The kind of silence shared by two people carrying more than either of them knew how to put into words.As soon as we walked through the front door, I heard the familiar sound of tiny giggles."There she is!"Diane, who had offered to watch Lola while we were at the hospital, smiled as our daughter kicked excitedly in her baby seat.The smile on Diane's face faded the moment she looked at Kumba, she saw it immediately.The exhaustion and the pale complexion.The way he forced himself to stand a little straighter than he really could."How did it go?" she asked softly.Kumba forced a smile."I'm still standing."His attempt at humor made my heart ache.Diane walked over and hugged him carefully."I'm proud of you."He nodded "Thanks, Mom."Ther

KumbaCancer had taught me something years ago that pain wasn't always loud, sometimes it was quiet and sometimes it smiled at you across a dinner table.Sometimes it asked whether you wanted sugar in your coffee.Sometimes it kissed you goodnight and waited until you were asleep before it fell apart.I just never imagined I'd one day see that pain in Gesare.The morning after my first chemotherapy session, every muscle in my body protested when I opened my eyes.My mouth tasted like metal and my head pounded so hard.For a second, I forgot where I was then I reached across the bed, it was empty and this had been happening for a while now, "Gesare?" I called after her but there was no answer, I pushed myself upright slowly trying to regain control as the room spun.I sat there until the dizziness passed before forcing myself to my feet.The house was strangely quiet.Usually by this hour, Lola was announcing her presence to the entire neighborhood.Either she was crying or making thos

Gesare.His lips are still on mine when the world tilts and that’s the only way I can explain it.One moment we are lying side by side under the open sky, the faint flicker of candlelight dancing around us, and the next, everything narrows down to him, to the way his mouth moves against mine, to the way my body reacts without asking permission.The kiss deepens again, more urgent this time, like something unspoken has finally been let loose. My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, needing him closer, and he doesn’t resist, not even a little, If anything, he meets me there and matches me.His hand slides from my waist, up along my side, slow but deliberate, like he is learning me through touch. The warmth of his palm against my skin sends a shiver straight through me, my breath catching against his lips.“Kumba” I barely get his name out before he kisses me again, softer this time, but somehow more intense like he is trying to slow this down, like he is figh

GesareI sit on the edge of the bed, my fingers tracing the smooth fabric of the duvet, my eyes moving slowly around the room for what feels like the hundredth time, everything is perfect.The walls, the furniture, the soft lighting, everything is placed exactly where it should be, everything expensive and everything is untouched.It doesn’t feel like a place someone lives in, It feels like a place you’re expected to behave in. I honestly doubt anyone had ever slept in this room before, rich people always have guest rooms just for decorations. I pull my knees up slightly, wrapping my arms around myself as I exhale slowly.A soft knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts and I stiffen immediately.“Come in,” I say, my voice more quieter than I intended and the door opens gently.And there she is standing in the doorway, Diane, She looks so composed and put together, her eyes meet mine, and for a second, neither of us says anything.“I just came by to tell you dinner is ready,” sh