Fated love: the unwanted bride

Chapter 2367: Chapter 2367: Don’t Move, It’s Me

I don’t know what time it is at night, it feels like I’ve slept for a long time, yet it also seems like I’ve had a long dream.

The rain outside has lessened significantly, pattering gently against the window. The night is serene, shrouded in darkness, quiet and calm.

Jasmine Yale habitually curls up when she sleeps, a tendency that’s more pronounced in the winter.

When it gets cold, she likes to hold the quilt tightly to her chest.

During the night, warmth spreads from the palm of her hand.

Her originally cold feet seem to be embraced warmly.

Jasmine Yale thinks she is dreaming. In her dream, she is not pregnant and is wearing a floral dress, running back and forth across the spring lawn.

The spring sunshine is warm, the flowers are fragrant, a riot of colors, everything is so full of life.

She is basking in the sun, running until she gets tired.

Just as she wants to sit down and rest for a while, she sees Sylvan Cheney picking a bunch of roses, walking towards her.

"Sylvan, Sylvan..." In the dream, she softly murmurs his name, her voice tender and endearing.

"I’m here." A deep, resonant voice answers.

Jasmine Yale’s lips move slightly, as if she smiles.

The warmth in her palms melts away, her feet gradually warm up.

The bed no longer feels so cold.

Jasmine Yale moves closer to the warmth, feeling more comfortable this way.

In the latter half of the night, she sleeps soundly.

The baby in her belly remains quiet until around four or five in the morning, when it kicks Jasmine Yale once.

Jasmine Yale furrows her brow, instinctively wanting to clutch the sheets.

Instead, she accidentally grabs someone’s arm.

She wakes up with a start and reaches out to turn on the light.

"Don’t move, it’s me." Sylvan Cheney’s low voice whispers in her ear.

Jasmine Yale pauses, thinking she is still dreaming, insisting on turning on the light.

The soft orange light of the table lamp flicks on, revealing the travel-weary Sylvan Cheney. He has removed his jacket and is wearing only a charcoal gray sweater, sitting beside her, his eyes betraying undeniable exhaustion, as if he hasn’t slept all night.

The rain outside continues to fall, its sound audible in the room.

Jasmine Yale, stunned, looks wide-eyed at him, her eyelids slightly swollen.

She is not dreaming, it’s Sylvan Cheney. freewёbnoνel.com

Sylvan Cheney smiles faintly, a hint of embarrassment in his voice: "Don’t recognize me?"

His eyes and brows carry a gentle smile. Though tired, he doesn’t show an ounce of it in front of her.

"When... did you get back?" Jasmine Yale, still surprised, asks.

"Just before one o’clock."

Jasmine Yale is even more astonished by how deeply she slept.

"Did I wake you?" Sylvan Cheney’s voice is soft, "It’s still early, sleep a bit more. I’ll watch over you."

"Why did you come back? Didn’t you say it would be a few more days?" Jasmine Yale finds it hard to fall back asleep.

She realized now, no wonder the bed felt so warm and she slept so comfortably, even the dreams were beautiful. It turns out he had been holding her while she slept.

And by the look of him, he hadn’t closed his eyes all night.

"Aunt Santana texted me saying you were unwell, so I rushed back. I ran into a downpour, which delayed the flight by several hours. I’ve booked a flight at seven, and I have to go to Old York then."

Sylvan Cheney’s voice is gentle, but it weighed heavily on Jasmine Yale’s heart.

It turns out he rushed back overnight.

"Are you... very tired?" Jasmine Yale looks at him apologetically. She really didn’t know Butler Santana had sent him a message.

"It’s alright, I can rest on the plane." Sylvan Cheney reaches out to touch her flushed cheek, his gaze filled with deep affection.