<b>Chapter </b><b>156 </b>
<b>Josh </b>turned to look at me, his grip on my hand tightening noticeably. At that moment, it felt as if he had seized my very heart.
“I’ll give Zoe all of me. I’ll love her as I love my own life, protect her with everything I have,” Josh said, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity <b>that </b>made my heart race.
His words were deep, like an ocean, and for the first time, I truly understood the meaning of that expression.
Although our rtionship was just for show, I could feel Josh’s confession, raw and real.
This guy… he’s ying with me, turning our little act into something genuine.
He spoke those words so earnestly, and I couldn’t help but respond. I raised my hand to hold his, but his confession made me want to clench my teeth<b>. </b>I hadn’t asked him to turn a pretend rtionship into a real one.
Instead, I ced my hand on his face, giving it a light squeeze. He was the type of man who would feel awkward in situations like this, especially with his strong sense of integrity.
But instead of showing any sign of embarrassment, he nuzzled my hand like a little puppy begging for affection.
It was so shameless. And yet… it was oddly endearing. I hadn’t expected Josh to act this way.
After rubbing against my hand, Josh turned back to Peter and Michelle, saying, “I’ll love her the way Mr. Dolton loves you, for the rest of my life.”
That was his confession to me, and the rest was his subtle jab at Michelle.
I saw Michelle’s face stiffen, her smile faltering. Josh’s words had left her without aeback.
Peter, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up. “Zoe, let Josh have a chat with Michelle. Come with me to the study.”
I could guess what Peter wanted, so I took a deep breath and followed him upstairs.
Once we were in the study, I expected Peter to ask me something, but he didn’t. Instead, he handed me the gift box I had given him earlier and said, “Zoe, open it. Use your new pen and ink to write a few words with me.”
It had been a long time since I had spent this kind of quiet moment with Peter.
At least three years, maybe more. Thest time I’d written with him, Michelle had mentioned that “As children grow, they naturally drift away from their parents, especially when they’re not their biological children.”
Since then, I’d only visited the study a few times, never to practice writing.
Today, however, he was acting differently, just like when I was younger, and it made me a little uneasy.
But I didn’t ask questions. I opened the stationery I had bought, and Peter set up a sheet of paper.
I gathered the tools, and as he examined them, he said, “Did you really spend too much on this?”
“These tools are priceless,” I replied with a smile.
Peterughed, then said, “Yes, indeed. Now, let me go first. You prepare the ink, and then it’s your turn. I’ll help you prepare it.”
It was <b>a </b>routine we used to follow, and I nodded as I began to prepare the ink.
Peter wasn’t in a hurry. He carefully readied his pen, and only after I had prepared the ink did he begin writing.
He wrote<b>, </b>“Fallen leaves signal autumn,”
Chapter <b>156 </b>
Even though it was summer, his choice of words made me realize something he was telling me he understood my <b>thoughts</b><b>. </b>
<b>“</b>Your turn<b>,</b><b>” </b>Peter said, handing me the pen.
I hesitated, looking at the pen but not immediately taking it. He smiled at me with his usual gentle expression and asked, “What’s wrong? Are <b>you </b><b>afraid </b>to write? Forgot how?”
His kindness was there, but I couldn’t shake the pressure I felt. I nodded sheepishly, saying, “It’s been a while.”
<b>AD </b>