?<strong>Chapter 499:</strong>


    Surprisingly, she didn’t feel upset. She understood that going out in the middle of the night for Daxton was bound to provoke Kristopher’s jealousy.


    Yawning, she slipped into her soft slippers and headed upstairs. It had been a long day, and now exhaustion hit her like a wave. Truthfully, she was a little thankful Kristopher had tricked her intoing home. At least now, she could finally rest.


    She changed into her pajamas, crawled under the covers, and quickly drifted into a deep sleep.


    When Kristopher arrived home, the living room was softly lit with warm light, casting aforting glow across the space, even without anyone present. The lighting wasn’t his preference—he had always liked cool tones—but Carrie had insisted on warm lighting, arguing it made the house feel more like a home.


    Now,ing homete at night, he found himself grateful for it. He carried a box ofte-night snacks upstairs.


    As he entered the bedroom, he noticed the light was still on, but Carrie was already curled up under the covers, fast asleep. He smiled faintly. Carrie usually couldn’t fall asleep with the light on. She must have been truly exhausted.


    The faint metallic scent of blood lingered on his ck jacket. Though the fabric concealed any stains, he couldn’t ignore it.


    Kristopher set the box down on the nightstand and walked into the bathroom to shower. After washing off the day, he changed into fresh pajamas. He debated tossing his jacket but remembered it was part of a matching set Carrie had picked out. Instead, he threw it into theundry basket, carefully covering it with a robe. Satisfied, he opened the bathroom door.


    Carrie stirred at the sound, her half-lidded eyes peeking out from under the nket. Sleep clung to her expression, making her look soft and vulnerable.


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    Kristopher walked over, picking up the snack box and sitting on the edge of the bed. She stretched out a hand from under the covers and sped his. Her fingers were warm and delicate, anchoring him in the moment.


    “Do you want to keep sleeping, or would you like a bite?” he asked softly.


    “What is it?” Carrie’s voice was husky with sleep, the wordsing out almost like a yful whine.


    He touched the box, checking its temperature, then opened it and held it up. “Your favorite fried chicken from that ce you like.”


    The aroma of the fried chicken wafted up, and Carrie’s stomach betrayed her with a soft growl. Sheughed sheepishly, pushing herself up against the headboard. “Just a few bites.”


    Kristopher picked up a drumstick and held it out for her. Carrie hesitated for a moment.


    In the past, she would have taken the drumstick and eaten it herself, keeping her interactions with him reserved and independent. But now, she had learned that love wasn’t a solo act. It was a partnership, a delicate bnce where both gave and took, each small gesture forming a bridge between their hearts.


    She leaned forward, taking a bite, her gaze lingering on Kristopher’s sharp profile. “Delicious,” she said, her lips curling into a genuine smile.


    Seeing her happy brought an unexpected warmth to Kristopher. He realized, for the first time, that caring for someone wasn’t a burden—it could feel deeply satisfying. He brought the drumstick to her lips again, urging her to take more bites.


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