บททั้งหมดของ My Ex Fiancé wants be back, but my contract husband owns me: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

Amelia's POVI couldn’t sleep well after Damian showed up at my door. The wine had worn off by midnight, leaving me with a dry mouth and a head full of old memories I didn't ask for. I tossed and turned until the sheets twisted around my legs. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face. The way his voice cracked when he said he never stopped loving me. The way his hands shook when he held out those white flowers. The way he looked when he walked away—shoulders slumped, defeated, nothing like the confident man who had stood beside Ivy at the engagement party. I didn't want to feel sorry for him. But I did. And that made me angry. By morning, I was exhausted and angry at myself for being exhausted. I made coffee. I stared at the wall. I thought about calling Asher, just to hear a voice that wasn't Damian's. But I didn't. I didn't know what I would say. Hey, your nephew showed up at my apartment drunk last night. He said he never stopped loving me. Anyway, how's your morning going?

Amelia's POV Sam showed up at my apartment on Sunday morning with a bottle of champagne, a stack of legal papers, and a grin that made me nervous. "It’s to make it official, aren’t you excited?" she said, pushing past me into the living room. "It's not official until we sign the documents." I rolled my eyes. "Exactly. That's why I'm here." She set the champagne on the kitchen counter and started opening cabinets, looking for glasses. "Where do you keep the good stuff?" "Second cabinet on the left. And we shouldn't drink before we sign. That's probably illegal." I tried to stop her. "Probably." She pulled out two glasses and handed me one. "But we’re lawyers. We know how to bend the rules. Plus it’s not an alcoholic wine." I took the glass. She poured. I didn't stop her. Sam was eight months pregnant and glowing in a way that made me want to hate her, except she was also the only person in the world who could make me laugh when I wanted to cry. Her hair was pulled up

Amelia's POV The apple pie was gone. Every crumb. Eleanor had made two, just in case, and even the second one had been demolished. Harold had eaten the last slice himself, claiming it was "quality control," and Eleanor had thrown a napkin at him again. They were still laughing when I helped clear the plates. "You don't have to do that," Eleanor said, reaching for the stack in my hands. "I want to." I smiled at her. She looked at me for a moment, her eyes soft, then nodded. "Fine. But I wash. You dry." It wasn't a question. I followed her into the kitchen. The kitchen was warm and cluttered, nothing like the cold, sterile one at my parents' house. Dishes piled in the drying rack. Magnets on the fridge. A calendar on the wall with handwritten notes in different colors. Harold dentist. Asher dinner. Call plumber. Eleanor ran the water. I picked up a towel. "You know," she said, scrubbing a plate, "when Asher told me he was engaged, I didn't believe him at first." "Why not?" "

Amelia's POV Neither of us moved. His hands were still on my waist. My hands were on his chest. The quilt was bunched beneath us, soft and warm, and the only light in the room came from the moon through the window. I could feel his heartbeat. Or maybe that was mine. "Asher," I whispered. He didn't answer. He just looked at me. His blue eyes were dark, searching my face like he was looking for permission. I gave it to him. I leaned in. The kiss was soft at first. Tentative. His lips barely brushed mine, like he was asking a question he was afraid to hear the answer to. I answered by kissing him back. Deeper this time. His hand moved from my waist to the back of my neck. His fingers threaded through my hair. He pulled me closer, and I let him. I had kissed him before. In the hotel room, when he was a stranger and I was half-drunk and running from a broken heart. At the contract signing, because Sam made us. But those kisses didn't count. They were performances. This

Amelia's POV We stayed in bed until the sun was high enough to slip through the curtains and make a bright square on the floor. Neither of us wanted to move. Asher had his arm around me, his hand resting on my hip, his thumb drawing slow circles on my skin. I had my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Steady. Slow. The kind of slow that comes from not having anywhere else to be. "Your mom is going to come looking for us," I said. "Probably." "Should we go down?" I asked. "In a minute." He kissed the top of my head. I felt it everywhere. The room was quiet, it didn't feel empty. It felt full. Full of morning light and warm sheets and something I wasn't ready to name yet. "Can I ask you something?" I said. "Mm." "Why did you agree to the contract? Like what’s the real reason?" His hand stopped moving. I looked up at him. His face was calm, but there was something behind his eyes. Something careful. "I told you," he said. "I needed a wife for the