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Dear Ex-wife Marry Me novel (Maja) novel Chapter 1331

Summary for Chapter 1331: Dear Ex-wife Marry Me novel (Maja)

Chapter 1331 – Highlight Chapter from Dear Ex-wife Marry Me novel (Maja)

Chapter 1331 is a standout chapter in Dear Ex-wife Marry Me novel (Maja) by Beverly Quinn, where the pace intensifies and character dynamics evolve. Rich in drama and tension, this part of the story grips readers and pushes the Romance narrative into new territory.

After wrapping up the mess with 002, Mr. K casually waved his hand in front of Maja’s eyes.

"How’s the vision coming along?"

"Not too bad, I think I’ll get back to normal in a week. I’m seeing more shapes now.”

Maja got to her feet, trying to navigate her way out, but stumbled over the corner of the coffee table. She fell forward towards K, her hand “accidentally” reaching for his mask.

But K was quicker. He pinned her down on the couch, his voice even more indifferent.

“Be careful.”

It suddenly came to Maja’s mind how this man had always kept distance from her.

Could it be that he never takes off his mask, even in the seclusion of this villa?

Her brows furrowed.

It seemed she’d have to find another opportunity.

Two days later, in a villa in Greenfield.

Zoey had been learning how to change dressings and treat wounds from the doctor for the past few days.

The doctor stood up, “He should wake up today. Keep the diet light for the next month.”

“OK.”

Zoey politely escorted the doctor out and then sat by the bedside, waiting.

She had never dared to look closely at Fitch’s face before.

If Ian’s features were aristocratic and aloof, then Fitch’s were domineering and brooding.

He showed no tenderness towards women, never kissed her, nor did he bother to ask about her affairs.

But perhaps girls will always hold a peculiar sentiment for the first guy to get intimate with. So now, staring intently at his face, she could not help but feel Fitch indeed had an impressive appearance.

She was exhausted, having watched over his IV drip all night without daring to blink. Now, all she felt was an overwhelming sense of sleepiness.

Fitch woke up to pain all over his body.

He stared at the ceiling and slowly propped himself up, with an odd sensation in his hand. He searched along this sensation and found a woman in sleep at the bedside.

Her head was buried downward, and he instinctively thought she was a maid.

“I’m hungry.”

Zoey was jolted by the sound of his voice, quickly lifting her head and snapping to attention.

“What would you like to eat? I’ll make it for you now.”

“Porridge.”

Zoey got up, noticing how he struggled to rise.

His brow furrowed, and the many bandages wrapping his body were now evident to him. With great effort, he tried to make it to the bathroom.

Zoey, fearing he’d fall, hurried to support his arm.

Standing at the urinal, she felt so embarrassed that she averted her gaze in no time.

"I’ll wait outside for you!"

She headed out, only to hear the sound of running water soon after.

Fitch had lost weight, his nose now more sculpted. Washing his hands at the sink, he glanced at the bandages wrapped around his head.

Opening the bathroom door, he found the woman outside, quietly waiting.

His body felt fairly clean. She had carefully wiped him down over the past few days, preventing even a trace of sweat.

She called out, removing her apron and serving him a bowl of porridge.

But she didn’t dare to sit; in her limited memory, she had never shared a meal with Fitch.

So after doing all these, she sat at a distance, as if her very presence might ruin his appetite.

Fitch sat alone at the dining table for a while before he tentatively called out.

“Honey?”

Zoey was taken aback.

He observed her expression closely, his slender fingers gripping the spoon, “We are not?”

“No, don’t get me wrong, we’re just friends!”

Better to clear things up in case he would accuse her of trying to claim a relationship once he got fully recovered.

Fitch, seeing how she was familiar with the house, noticing the absence of maids, and the meticulous care she gave, had assumed that she was his wife.

“Do you have a crush on me?”

Otherwise, why would she take such good care of him?

Zoey panicked.

"No, Mr. Haskins, you might have hurt your head. The doctor said a month of rest would get you recovered. I do not have crush on you, and you don’t have have crush on me."

“I know.”

He replied with a casual and icy tone as he spooned the porridge, “I’d never have a crush.”

Zoey forced an awkward smile.

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