My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage

Chapter 6:

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As she lifted her gaze, her own image in the mirror stopped her in her tracks—her skin appeared as smooth and flawless as fine porcelain, glowing with an unblemished radiance.

Her eyes, deep pools of allure, sparkled with an enchanting, soft warmth, inviting anyone who dared meet her gaze.

Despite edging into her late twenties at twenty-five, she reveled in the fact that time had yet to leave its marks upon her perfect complexion.

Surely, a woman with such a visage had no place for self-pity.

Absorbed in her contemplation, Carrie carelessly extended her right leg onto the cold floor, forgetting it was the very limb she had injured.

Wrapped excessively in cling film to shield it from moisture, the tight encasement had stifled her circulation, rendering her leg eerily numb.

As her foot touched down, it betrayed her, slipping forward unexpectedly.

“Ah!” Carrie gasped, her arms flailing in a frantic ballet, searching for a lifeline in the void.

Just as she teetered on the brink of a painful rendezvous with the floor, the bathroom door burst open.

Kristopher stood at the entrance, his suit immaculately tailored, creating a striking figure.

As their eyes locked, he paused, visibly taken aback, then quickly closed the distance with brisk strides.

Carrie’s breath caught as Kristopher swept her up in a graceful bridal style, an unexpected tightness wrapping around her waist.

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Caught off guard by his sudden appearance, Carrie realized with a jolt that she was completely bare.

A flush of embarrassment washed over her as she instinctively clutched her hands over her chest.

This was their first moment of such intimacy since their wedding, and the discomfort made her toes curl inward, her skin blushing a delicate shade of pink.

Kristopher looked down at her with a mischievous grin. “Let’s be honest, there’s not much to see,” he teased gently.

Feeling both mortified and slightly irritated, Carrie snapped back, “Oh, Mr. Norris, after all you’ve seen, I suppose nothing can impress you anymore.”

She carried her C-cup curves with understated charm, a touch of sensuality that outshone Lise’s painfully flat, almost awkwardly rigid build.

Yet Carrie knew well that without love, even the most perfect physique paled in comparison to the charm of one dearly cherished.

Nonchalantly, Kristopher reached for a bathrobe hanging behind the door and draped it over her.

His frown deepened at her comment. “What are you talking about, Carrie?”

A thought seemed to strike him, and his expression grew even more impatient. “Tell me, did you send those divorce papers in the dead of night just to lure me back here—to catch you completely bare?” His tone was a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “I told you I was swamped with work. Was this dramatic display really necessary?”

Carrie’s temper flared at his accusatory tone, reigniting the tension between them.

He was always so quick to lose patience with her.

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