Dear Ex-wife Marry Me (Maja and Ian) novel Chapter 1973

Zoey was worn down by his persistence, and it took another half an hour before he finally settled down. She got up, tidied things a bit, and wiped off the sweat that covered him before lying down again. This time, he behaved much better, his breathing steady and even.

Zoey raised her hand to feel his forehead, noticing a decrease in his fever—it wasn't as frighteningly high as before. Relieved, she was about to retract her hand when he caught it.

"Honey, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry..."

He started to mumble incoherently again. Staring at his face, Zoey realized it had been a long time since she had really looked at him. Their relationship had been strained lately, and she would always avoid his gaze.

"Zoey, I was wrong, sorry."

"Wrong."

His lips were still dry and cracked. Zoey leaned down, her lips meeting his, moistening them gently. He then quieted down entirely. She lay back down, eyes closed, not speaking anymore.

When the alarm went off, she got up to remove the IV, and wiped his forehead once more. He was sleeping peacefully, allowing her to finally breathe a sigh of relief.

The next morning, she reached for her side of the bed. Usually, Fitch was up early, but this time he was still there. Half-asleep, she instinctively raised her hand to his neck, feeling upwards until her palm rested on his forehead. His temperature felt normal; the fever must have broken. With the thought of his fever breaking, she decided to try and get some more sleep.

But her hand felt like it was caught in a vine; struggling only made it tighten. Frowning, she opened her eyes to look beside her. Fitch was lying on his side, his gaze fixed on her. Her hand was held in his, fingers intertwined under the covers.

Perhaps it was his still pale complexion that made Zoey unable to push him away. Unable to sleep last night, she messaged Ian to ask about Fitch's childhood. Only then did she learn he had been a stern little class president in kindergarten. Her heart softened instantly; Fitch's demeanor last night was so much like Nolan's, it struck her deeply how much of him Nolan had inherited.

For a long time, Fitch's attempts to hold Zoey were met with resistance, but now, she didn't pull away. His eyes brightened, holding her even tighter. Zoey couldn't help but pat his hand. "I can't breathe."

He loosened his grip, almost fearing this was all a dream, that Zoey's tenderness was too good to be true. Zoey closed her eyes, her voice a bit raspy. "I'm tired, let's sleep a bit more."

But less than ten minutes later, she was awakened by the heat beside her. Fitch had propped himself over her, his lips tracing a path from her cheek downwards. Too drained to protest, Zoey asked in a hoarse voice, "Aren't you tired?"

Fitch froze, finding the morning's tenderness unlike Zoey. He feared that at the stroke of midnight, all this warmth would vanish. Zoey looked down to see him busy at work on her chest, sighing. It was as if she had given her tacit approval.