Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

Chapter 1596

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The housekeeper cinto the den with a message that set Fitch's teeth on edge. “Sir, Ms. Bennitt is at the front gate. Should | let

her in?”

Fitch felt an immediate distaste at the thought of seeing her. He had pegged her as a stable sort, never imagining she could stir up

such scandal.

“No,” he replied, his voice sharp with finality. After his brief response, he grabbed his coat from the rack and exited through the

back door.

It wasn’t until he pulled up to the pet store that he realized why he had driven there.

Ozzy was gone, and in a way, it was on his conscience. It only seemed right to get a new puppy for Zoey as a gesture of

atonement.

But as he walked among the rare breeds, his gaze kept being drawn to a memory of a scrappy little gray mongrel that somehow

seemed more sincere, more beautiful than the ones before him.

Hesitating only a moment, he chose a pristine white pup and, carrying it in a crate, inquired about Zoey’s whereabouts.

Learning that she was in the hospital, he immediately set off in that direction.

Halfway there, he realized that he wouldn't normally do such a thing for anyone else. His brow furrowed as he pondered whether it

was his involvement that had dragged Zoey into this mess to begin with.

Pressing the accelerator, he continued toward the hospital.

Zoey's fever had broken, and she was awake, though her lips were cracked and bloody. She said nothing, staring blankly at the

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ceiling, haunted by dreams of Ozzy wagging his little tail, and then of Wendy heartlessly dropping him from a height. Pain throbbed

through her—there wasn't a place that didn't hurt.

It seemed to be a cruel pattern in her life: everything she tried to hold onto inevitably slipped away, even a mere pet.

Cornelia walked in with a steaming bowl of broth and placed it beside Zoey. “Drink ssoup; you're weak,” she urged gently.

Zoey blinked slowly and tried to sit up, her stomach churning at the sight and smell of the broth.

Her face drained of color as she clutched her stomach, “Cornelia, could | have a moment alone, please?”

Understanding her distress, Cornelia nodded. “I'll leave for now and check on you later. The nurses will bring your meals. Try to eat

something; you've lost too much weight.”

Indeed, between the accident and the fever, Zoey had lost a significant amount of weight.

She attempted a smile but found it impossible to muster.

Once alone, Zoey leaned back and zoned out, wearing a hospital gown with the window ajar, letting in a breeze that seemed to

threaten to break her.

A knock at the door snapped her back to reality, followed by its opening. She assumed Cornelia had forgotten something and didn’t

look up.

The door closed, and a familiar presence made her turn. Standing by the door was Fitch.

If this had been yesterday, Zoey wouldn't have been able to stay composed, but now, she felt nothing but estrangement.

Had she ever truly liked Fitch? Liking him was exhausting, painful, and she never seemed to learn.

Fitch held a small crate with a tiny white dog inside. “To make it up to you,” he said, his voice as detached as ever, even in this

moment of supposed amends.

Zoey blinked, uncomprehending.

Fitch mistook her silence for shock, given it was the first the'd cto see her of his own accord. But then she picked up the

bowl of soup and flung it at him.

It was her turn to deliver the word he had hurled at her the night before.

“Get out.”

Fitch's eyelashes quivered, his brow furrowed. “What did you say?”

Zoey almost laughed, reaching for a cup and throwing it at his forehead with all the strength she had left.

“I said, get out,” she repeated, her voice eerily calm.

Fitch wanted to react, to rage, but then he saw something in her eyes—a lifelessness that unsettled him.

He noticed how much she had withered, the standard-size hospital gown hanging loosely on her frame. Her eyes no longer held the

brightness when she looked at him, the light that used to shine from within.

He stood frozen, unable to comprehend this change.

After a while, the best he could muster was, “Don’t be unappreciative.”

He had cto offer compensation, a gesture of politeness in response to the scandalous videos that had surfaced online.

Zoey laughed then, a laugh so pained that her chest hurt. It was a laugh of release, the sound of letting go.

True letting go wasn’t hysterical; it was the sudden evaporation of intense feelings, so quick she could hardly catch up.

At that moment, she felt a peace she had never known with Fitch. It was over.

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Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

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