My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage

Chapter 828:

Kristopher’s agitation mounted with every word. His frustration burned hot in his chest, his anger spilling out unchecked.

But then—he saw her face. And everything stopped.

The world around him blurred, fading into insignificance. There was only Carrie.

She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t disgusted. Instead, her brows knitted in confusion, her lips parted slightly, and in her eyes—was that concern? Something flickered there, something deeper. Sympathy?

Carrie, unaware of the war raging inside him, studied him with hesitation. She remembered the way he had clutched his head in pain earlier, the way his fingers had dug into his temples.

A thought struck her. Was he still in pain? Had the accident left him with more than just memory loss?

Before she could think better of it, she reached up and cupped his face. Even though she had sworn to keep her distance, some part of her refused to let him suffer alone.

Kristopher didn’t move. He let her examine him, even tilting his head slightly to give her better access.

Her breath ghosted over his ear, warm and featherlight. If she leaned in just a little more…

His mind reeled back to that stolen kiss at Morrison Manor—the way her lips had felt, impossibly soft, like fragile petals brushing against his.

His body moved before his mind could catch up. A slight turn of his head, and her lips grazed the shell of his ear. The contact lasted barely a second, a fleeting whisper of warmth, but his pulse roared in his ears like thunder. Before he could react, she pulled away.

Carrie asked with a frown, “There’s no obvious injury. What did the doctor say?”

Her emotions were more guarded now than when she first asked for a divorce. Back then, she had needed to be strong, to walk away without looking back. Any hesitation, any lingering feeling, would have shattered her resolve.

But now things were different. They were divorced. They had no ties. Gracie and the unborn child stood between them. Even if she openly acknowledged her feelings for him, they couldn’t go back.

She had loved him deeply. For two years, she had given him everything—her heart, her patience, her trust. She had broken herself over and over, only to gather the shattered pieces and love him again, as if she had no other choice.

But a divorce decree couldn’t sever emotions as easily as it severed a marriage.

Because she also hated him. Hated how he had always protected Lise. Hated how, when forced to choose, it was never her. Hated that even with amnesia, his prejudices against her had remained.

Love or hate—it didn’t matter. Either way, she was the only one left suffering.

Yet, despite it all, she couldn’t hate Kristopher the way she hated Lise. Seeing him sick and in pain was unbearable.

Her gaze dropped, avoiding his. If she looked too long, if she let him see too deeply, she was afraid he’d recognize everything she had tried so hard to bury.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the damp stains on his clothes. Without thinking, she pulled out a tissue and began wiping them away. It was a simple gesture, but one that spoke of familiarity, of old habits ingrained too deeply to forget.

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