***Completed*** Lady Jessamyn brought home a ten-year-old orphan when she was eight. He was handsome ^_~. She provided him with a place to stay and warm meals. As they grew up, she desired to marry him, despite their differing statuses. As war raged, he signed up for the military, promising to ask for her hand when he was worthy. Two years later, he became more than what he promised he would be. He became the Archduke of Ayberia. But he broke her heart by marrying her friend. Years rolled away; life happened. She married a man who loved her and fell madly in love with him. She didn't think of him again. But fate was cruel; she was widowed at the age of twenty-one. She lost everything. Seven years later, she met a mysterious wolf while she was out at work in the Archduke's fief. She had a fall. The next morning, she found herself on the Archduke's bed. Did fate bring them together again? Or something nefarious is at play? Is this a chance for a second love? Will she find out why he abandoned her in the past? Is it possible to rekindle their old love, or is it too late? ----- Join me in this journey. Your comments and votes are appreciated. Gift me to motivate me. Updates will be daily.
Jerrick let out a deep breath, his chest rising and falling heavily as if the weight of the world sat squarely on his shoulders. He had thought there was more time—more moments to cherish with Jessamyn, more stolen glances and whispered words in the night.
He believed, somehow, that the birth of their son would change everything, that the new life they had created together would be the bridge to mend the distance between them.
Yet, despite the hope he clung to so desperately, she had already made up her mind.
A sense of helplessness engulfed him. His hands, once capable of wielding swords and shields, now felt useless, unable to grasp the love that seemed to be slipping through his fingers. It was as though everything he had fought for—everything he thought was strong enough to weather any storm—was crumbling before his eyes. He feared that no matter how much he reached out, she might slap away his hand, walking towards a place where he could no longer follow.