?Chapter 292:


    Kristopher watched her go, his brows knitted into a tight frown.


    He reached for his phone, intending to check the time, only to find the screen shattered, likely from the ident. He couldn’t even unlock the device.


    Kristopher gingerly got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. After a simple wash, he went downstairs to look for Belinda. “Let me use your phone.”


    She was at the kitchen counter, kneading dough for her handmade noodles. Flour covered her hands and the upper half of her apron.


    Belinda turned around and lifted her apron to reveal one of her waist pockets.


    Kristopher nced at the phone peeking from under it, then his gaze flitted over to her t belly. It lingered there.


    “You’ll have to take it yourself,” she prompted when he froze in ce. “My hands are dirty.”


    Her voice pulled Kristopher back to his senses. He cleared his throat and walked over to grab the phone.


    But Belinda’s pocket was shallow, and as he pulled the phone out, the back of his hand identally brushed against her lower abdomen.


    The fabric of Belinda’s dress was thin and airy, and although the contact was brief, the heat of their bodies seemed to have imprinted itself on their skin.


    All at once, scenes from that one fateful night they had shared shed in both of their minds.


    No one spoke as the air in the kitchen grew heavy, charged with sexual tension.


    The atmosphere in the kitchen grew thick with tension, heavy and suffocating. Belinda furrowed her brows as her gaze instinctively met Kristopher’s. Their eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between them. For two years, they had shared a closeness that was now palpable in this simple exchange.


    Kristopher’s expression darkened slightly as he set her phone down. Without a word, he gently lifted her and ced her on the kitchen counter. The cool surface beneath her made Belinda shiver involuntarily. Kristopher positioned himself between her legs, hisrge hand tracing the outline of her lips as he leaned in, as if to seal the moment with a kiss.


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    But just as their faces neared, the sound of the front door swinging open shattered the stillness. The moment was broken, pulling them both back to reality. Before either could recover, Marc entered, arms loaded with bags.


    The scent of milk lingered in the air as Marc stepped in. Back when Belinda and Kristopher were married, mornings often found her in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Marc,ing to deliver documents or discuss business, would frequently find her there, starting the day with a familiar routine.


    As the smell of milk wafted through the kitchen, Marc couldn’t help but ask, “Mrs. Cox, you’re up early making breakfast?” His question hung in the air, unanswered.


    Furrowing his brow, Marc instinctively nced toward the kitchen, only to be caught off guard by the scene before him. His gaze quickly averted, and he muttered, “Am I… am I interrupting something?”


    Hadn’t Kayden said Kristopher was still unconscious? How was he up so early and… so intimate with his ex-wife in the kitchen? Had he really been injuredst night?


    In the kitchen, Belinda’s cheeks red a fiery red. Hastily, she shoved Kristopher away, hopped off the countertop, and spun around to wash her hands. Her movements were erratic as she resumed cooking, trying to regain some semnce of control.<fnead4> For more chapters visit find?novel</fnead4>


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