ISABELLA
The days that followed my discharge from the hospital were... strange.
Strange, because I wasn’t used to being taken care of.
Strange, because the man who was supposed to be my ex-husband was the one doing everything for me.
And strangest of all—because with every little thing he did, Christian Black was making it dangerously easy for my heart to flutter again.
I woke up on the third morning after coming home to the softest sensation—a warm hand brushing stray strands of hair from my face.
My eyes fluttered open, met with the sight of Christian, kneeling by my bedside.
"Morning," he murmured, his voice rough from sleep.
I blinked, still groggy. "You’re still here?"
His lips quirked. "Where else would I be?" He said as hevwalked away from me.
That was the strange part.
