Ch. 221: Mr. Edwards’ Unraveled Life chapter 221

Chapter 221

Kevin scanned the room with a faint frown. The apartment was small—so small it could fit into their bedroom with space to spare. Yet, it bore unmistakable traces of her personality. Clean, cozy, and unmistakably Norah.

At the entrance, a pair of fluffy bunny-patterned slippers caught his attention. His eyes softened, glancing toward her with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

Embarrassed, Norah snatched the slippers away. “Have you seen enough?” she asked, her voice tight.

Kevin settled onto the compact sofa and looked around. “Are you comfortable living here?” His tone was measured, but his gaze probed deeper than his question.

“It’s fine,” she replied curtly, standing stiffly by the door.

“This place is tiny,” he remarked. “And it doesn’t even have all the amenities of our house. How could you possibly prefer it here? Why not just come home? We have space, comfort, and people to help you.”

Norah’s patience thinned. “Kevin, I didn’t move out to start a fight or sulk. I left because I’m done. This is my life now. You’ve seen it, so please leave. I have work in the morning.”

Kevin leaned back, crossing his legs as his gaze locked on hers. “We’re married, Norah. It’s not unusual for me to be here. If anything, people should know you’re my wife.”

Her irritation flared. “What do you want from me? To sit here and argue all night?”

He arched an eyebrow. “I already told you, we can separate after two years. But this...” he gestured around, “...isn’t separation. It’s running away. Maybe you just need time to remember what it’s like to live with your husband again.”

“Kevin!” she snapped. “This apartment is tiny. The bed barely fits me, let alone you. Leave. Now.”

He rose abruptly, walking toward the bedroom. “I’ll manage.”

Her heart sank as she hurried after him. The room was small, feminine, and unapologetically hers. The pink curtains, plush bunny pillows, and cozy bedspread—all of it seemed like a world Kevin didn’t belong in. Yet here he was, inspecting it like he owned the place.

“Kevin!” she protested, standing in the doorway. “Get out of my room!”

“Come home with me, and I will,” he said casually, running his hand over the curtain fabric.

“That’s not happening,” she said firmly.

“Then I’m staying,” he replied, pulling out his phone. Moments later, his assistant, Kian, appeared at the door with a suitcase.

“Mr. Edwards, your belongings,” Kian announced, stepping inside.

Norah’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You planned this?” she accused, half angry, half incredulous.

Kevin shrugged, unbothered. “Where should Kian put my clothes?”

Kian stood patiently, waiting for instructions. Norah buried her face in her hands, exasperated. “You can’t stay here. It’s inappropriate.”

Kevin glanced around, opened her small wardrobe, and pointed. “There’s space here. I’ll make do.”

“Kian,” he called. “Hang everything up.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Kian efficiently unpacked, Norah felt her resolve waver. Kevin’s presence was suffocating, yet beneath her frustration was a flicker of something she couldn’t quite place.

Once everything was settled, Kevin turned to her. “You didn’t eat dinner earlier. Are you hungry? I can make something.”

Norah crossed her arms. “I’m not hungry.”

“Even if you’re not, the baby might be,” he said, his voice softening. His gaze briefly flicked to her stomach.

Caught off guard, Norah instinctively placed a hand on her belly. “I’ll handle it myself. There’s nothing here for you to cook anyway.”

Kevin ignored her, rolling up his sleeves. Moments later, Kian reappeared with groceries.

Standing in the doorway, Norah watched in disbelief as Kevin unpacked the bags, revealing fresh vegetables and a chicken. She fought the urge to intervene, silently hoping he’d give up once he realized how unprepared he was.

Instead, he turned on a cooking tutorial on his phone and got to work. It was an oddly endearing sight—his tall frame hunched over the tiny stove, carefully following the video’s instructions.

She hesitated, watching as he clumsily lifted a boiling pot lid with his bare hands. He flinched but set it down gently, pretending not to notice the redness spreading across his fingers.

Her chest tightened. The video title read: Pregnancy-Friendly Meals.

Why did he always do this? Just when she thought she’d built enough walls around her heart, he found a way to tear them down.

Kevin continued cooking, unaware of her lingering gaze. Norah bit her lip, torn between frustration and something far more complicated. Her heart was soft, too soft, and no matter how hard she tried to harden it, Kevin had a way of making it ache all over again.