My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage

Chapter 897:

An unwanted thought. One he pushed away immediately. Carrie, oblivious to his inner turmoil, scrambled out of his arms. She moved too quickly, as if her instincts were screaming at her to put distance between them.

Realizing her reaction might have been too direct, she hesitated—then quickly reached out a hand. “Daxton, let me help you up.”

But Daxton merely smiled, waving her hand away. “You can’t possibly lift me.”

With effortless grace, he stood up on his own.

Carrie stole a glance at the slippers still lying on the floor. Before Daxton could make another move, she quickly nudged them closer with her foot and hurriedly slipped them on.

Satisfied that he wouldn’t attempt anything else, she relaxed slightly. Daxton watched her in silence before finally bending down to change into his own slippers. His voice was softer when he spoke next. “Are you sure you don’t need a doctor to take another look?”noveldrama

Carrie shook her head, already walking toward the bedroom. “No, I’ll be fine after a nap.”

Daxton watched her retreating back for a second before casually calling out, “Shall I make you some porridge? You should eat something.” Carrie paused, her hand resting on the doorframe. She turned, hesitation flickering across her face. “Really, there’s no need to trouble yourself. I don’t want to eat.”

Daxton ignored her protest and was already heading toward the kitchen, pulling an apron over his shirt. “I’ll make it anyway,” he said lightly. “I’ll just keep it warm in the pot. You can eat it whenever you wake up, okay?” His tone was gentle, almost coaxing, as if he were comforting a child.

Carrie blinked. It was such an ordinary moment, yet it sent a strange feeling through her chest. The sight of Daxton—standing in her kitchen, sleeves rolled up, tying the apron around his waist. It felt… familiar.

Almost like a glimpse into married life.

A sudden, unwelcome memory surfaced. Kristopher—standing in the same place. Cooking for her. Saying something similar.

Carrie forced the thought away. Women should put aside these useless emotions. Everything changed. People changed. The only person she could truly rely on was herself.

Regaining her composure, she gave Daxton a small nod. “Thank you,” she murmured. Then, without another word, she stepped into her bedroom and closed the door.

Outside the bedroom, as the door clicked shut, the smile slipped from Daxton’s face. In its place—a cold, unreadable expression.

He stood there for a long moment, motionless. Recently, he had been too busy. Too busy to make progress. His moving into Carrie’s apartment had done nothing to bring her closer to him.

Slowly, his gaze shifted to the kitchen counter. He reached for the knife. His grip tightened around the handle, pressing his thumb into the blade’s cool steel. Then, without a word, he turned and picked up the washed greens beside him and began slicing. One slow, precise cut at a time.

He couldn’t shake the unease creeping into his thoughts. Something was off. Something he couldn’t quite name. And his desire to keep Carrie close—to lock her in place before things slipped further—was growing more urgent by the second.

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