Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption novel Chapter 213

Chapter 213: Owe you a kiss...

Just as Davis had predicted, Jessica stirred awake not long after he had finally drifted into sleep.

The soft glow of morning light filtered through the curtains. Her lashes fluttered as she slowly opened her eyes. Gently detaching herself from the familiar warmth of his embrace, she let out a soft yawn and stretched, flexing her limbs and arms.

"She had been stressed out the night before and still felt a slight throbbing in some areas, yet she was refreshed and content. Taking a deep breath and casting a brief glance at the culprit, she sighed.

His calm, peaceful, almost childlike sleeping face caught her attention. Gently, she propped herself up, resting her cheek against her palm as her gaze settled on his face.

"God can really be partial sometimes," she whispered with a faint smile, eyes tracing his serene features which had long been ingrained in her memory, yet she couldn’t get tired of them. "Creating some perfect, and some imperfect."

Her words left no room for bitterness, only awe—tender, quiet wonder with traces of jealousy. She didn’t want to imagine how many women would throw themselves at his feet after his recovery.

"Isn’t it better to get a mask for this face to shield it from vixens and fox spirits?" she murmured with a light smile.

For a fleeting moment, she was tempted to reach out, to run a finger along the fine lines of his face—the strong brow, the soft angle of his jaw, the firm but untroubled curve of his lips. But she refrained. He looked exhausted. Peaceful.

She quietly slipped out of bed, tiptoeing across the room like a ghost. The bathroom door clicked shut behind her as she took a quick, refreshing shower.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she picked out a loose, comfortable casual wear and slipped into it.

Standing in front of the mirror, she skillfully tucked her hair into a low braid, slipped on her ring and wristwatch, and took a deep breath. She was ready to dive into the tasks she had pushed aside the night before.

She had errands she had planned to handle and these matters she didn’t want Davis involved in. But with the unfinished work from last night she had to adjust the time to noon. Jessica made her way to the table with a small sigh, expecting hours of tedious labor ahead.

But the moment she opened the first file, her breath stilled.

Her brows knit in confusion. She flipped the page. Then the next. Then the one after that. Her frown deepened—but not from dismay. From disbelief.

"It’s done?" she murmured, flipping rapidly through the pages again in astonishment.

Each document was completed with meticulously attention. Notes annotated in the margins. Corrections applied. Even decisions she had left hanging in uncertainty were finalized with unwavering clarity.

The handwriting was sharp, confident. Every pen stroke held decisiveness, a deep understanding of her mind—perhaps even more than she had realized herself.

Her eyes darted toward the bed, where Davis lay still, his broad shoulders rising and falling in a gentle rhythm.

Her heart warmed with gratefulness..

She reached for the final folder—her design draft—and hesitated. This one, surely, had been left untouched. She hadn’t shown it to him in its entirety. Only mentioned it in passing.

But when she opened it, her breath hitched. Her fingers froze in mid-motion.

There it was.

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