Dear Ex-wife Marry Me novel (Maja) novel Chapter 1332

Having had finished his porridge, Fitch wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin beside him.

Zoey, ever so perceptive of the moment, began to gather the dishes from the table, ready to wash them in the kitchen.

He gave her a glance as she picked up a nearby apron and tied it around herself. The apron was black with a touch of lace.

Balancing the dishes, she headed to the kitchen, and soon the sound of running water filled the air.

Fitch remained seated at the dining table. He wasn’t someone to panic at the slightest inconvenience. He had woken up with his mind nearly a blank slate, only to find an unfamiliar room and a woman he did not recognize.

He didn’t bother asking where he was or who he was. Such questions seemed pointless; if his amnesia was injury-induced, memories would eventually resurface.

When Zoey returned from the kitchen, he extended a hand, silently asking her to help him back to his room.

Zoey was still unsure about the extent of his memory loss, but the doctor had mentioned that his injuries were severe. Had it not been for his robust constitution, he might not have made it. Yet here he was, recovering at an astonishing rate.

After she assisted him to his room, his gaze fell upon the neatly made cot with a folded blanket.

His eyes then drifted to the half-open wardrobe, finding his clothes pressed and arranged with care.

Weirdly, he felt an overwhelming sense of comfort out of no reason.

Her actions spoke volumes; they weren’t a couple, nor was there any hint of unrequited love, yet she was so attentive.

There was only one plausible explanation.

They must have been married and were now divorced.

That would explain her eagerness to deny their relationship, even claiming they were merely friends.

As Zoey helped him onto the bed, he instinctively wrapped his hands around her waist. She didn’t resist.

In front of Fitch, Zoey had lost the courage to say no. When Fitch decided he wanted her, there was no preamble; he was direct and overpowering, leaving no room for her to react, let alone refuse.

So she learned to be obedient and to adapt to his roughness.

Observing her expression, Fitch noticed that when his hand rested on her waist, she remained silent.

He slowly moved the other hand, encircling her waist completely. Still, no reaction.

If they were just friends, his behavior would have been a clear overstep, and it could possibly win him a slap on the face.

His suspicions seemed confirmed—they were divorced.

She wanted to avoid any impropriety, but the natural responses of her body couldn’t lie; they had been intimate.

Without his harsh words, he seemed different.

She lowered her eyelashes, not daring to interrupt, and instead went downstairs to prepare a plate of fruit.

She had cut the fruit into whimsical and delightful animal shapes, each piece adorned with a toothpick.

Setting up a small table beside his bed, she arranged the fruit plate and placed a glass of warm water beside it.

As he noticed her efforts, Fitch, with his gaze on the tablet, felt the same sensation of comfort wash over his body .

As she was about to return to her own bed, he patted the space beside him.

“Come sit here.”

“Huh?:

Zoey was taken aback; aside from when he desired her, there were strict boundaries between them.

Fitch, being one not to repeat himself, patted the bed again.

With a hint of trepidation, Zoey slipped off her shoes and cautiously crawled under the covers next to him.