CHAPTER 18: CHAPTER 18: SHE’S MY WIFE

Zinnia glared at him, her moist, almond-shaped eyes widening. "I’m spoiling for a fight, can’t you tell?"

Jenson Forrest raised an eyebrow. "With an attitude like that, just make sure you don’t take me with you when you get blown to smithereens."

Zinnia was fuming, but the head nurse couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

Afraid the nurse’s hand might tremble and hurt Jenson, Zinnia quickly said to her, "Please be careful."

The head nurse, a woman in her forties, looked at Zinnia with an amused smile. "Little girl with a sharp tongue but a soft heart, don’t worry. I’m very professional. I won’t hurt your boyfriend. Besides, he’s a grown man. Surely he can handle a little injury?"

At this point, Jenson’s sleeve had been cut open, revealing the wound. It was about ten centimeters long, the flesh gaping and bleeding profusely.

Zinnia’s heart clenched. She bit her lip and said, "This wound is quite serious! How is this just a ’little injury’? Nurse, please be quiet."

She was more anxious than the head nurse, and even more worried than the injured Jenson himself.

The head nurse chuckled. Jenson, feeling a bit helpless, reached out his uninjured hand and cupped the back of Zinnia’s neck.

Warmth spread from his touch as he pressed her head to his chest. With her forehead against his heart, Zinnia couldn’t see a thing. Jenson’s voice, tinged with a smile, sounded from above her.

"It’s okay, it’ll be done in a bit."

"Oh."

Zinnia nestled in his embrace, listening to his steady, strong heartbeat. For some reason, her nose began to tingle.

She stayed still as the nurse swiftly disinfected the wound.

"It’s going to need stitches."

The moment Zinnia heard "stitches," she anxiously tried to lift her head, but Jenson’s large hand held her neck steady, his fingers caressing it lightly.

"Don’t move."

A dizzying, tingling sensation made Zinnia go limp again. Jenson nodded to the nurse. "I’m sorry, she’s always a bit jumpy. Please forgive the fuss."

The head nurse worked skillfully. After finishing the stitches and applying medication, she took the gauze from her colleague and smiled. "You’re a lucky man. Your little girlfriend cares so much about you."

Zinnia stirred again. Jenson’s thumb brushed a strand of hair from her ear, then he gently pinched her reddened earlobe.

"She’s my wife."

The head nurse was a little surprised, mainly because Zinnia looked no older than a college student. She finished bandaging Jenson’s arm, then straightened up and pulled down her mask.

"Then you’d better treat her well. She’s so young to have settled down with you."

The head nurse left with the junior nurse. Only then did Jenson release Zinnia. She looked up, an irrepressible smile in her eyes.

Jenson looked down and met her smiling gaze. Her eyes curved into beautiful crescents. "What’s so funny?" he asked softly.

Zinnia blinked. "The nurse was saying you’re an old man robbing the cradle. Didn’t you hear her?"

Jenson pressed his lips together. Wasn’t the point of that comment that I should dote on her more? She certainly has a unique way of grasping the main idea.

The man lowered his head, his nose touching Zinnia’s. Their shallow breaths mingled, filling the space between them with an ambiguous, heart-pounding tension.

Zinnia froze. "What are you... doing?" Her voice trembled uncontrollably.

"I’m just getting a whiff of how tender this ’young grass’ is."

Embarrassed and annoyed, Zinnia pushed him away.

The man let her go and stood up. He ruffled her hair and said, "Stop messing around. I’ll have Timothy Cohen help you pack. Head back to Sovereign Court early, okay?"

Zinnia looked at him. His arm was wrapped in bandages, and his torn suit jacket was draped over his shoulders. The evening light washed over his broad shoulders, softening the sharp lines of his profile. He looked so handsome and noble, it was impossible to refuse him.

Her hand quietly moved to her abdomen. Maybe for the baby’s sake, she should try again...

Her fingertips dug into her palm. Zinnia asked, her voice almost timid. "What about Crystal Sutton?"

Jenson thought she was asking if he was still going to see Crystal. Remembering how Crystal had clutched her stomach when she left, he said, "I’ll go check on her. You head back first. I’ll be back soon."

In that instant, Zinnia’s heart turned to ice. The fleeting warmth and affection popped like a soap bubble.

She shook her head. "I won’t go back."

Jenson’s handsome face darkened. As she started to walk away, he grabbed her shoulder. "Zinnia, what more do you want?! I’m injured. Shouldn’t you move back in to take care of me?"

Zinnia found it laughable. She struggled against his grip. "Didn’t you get injured for Crystal? You can have her move in to take care of you. I’m sure she’d be delighted."

Jenson let out a cold laugh. "She’s afraid of blood."

How generous of her. It’s almost as if she’s worried she won’t succeed in pushing her own husband away.

Crystal was indeed afraid of blood, claiming it was a psychological trauma from the abuse she suffered from York Lawrence as a child. But Zinnia had been beaten far more severely by him. Wasn’t she entitled to have trauma, too?

Her heart twisted in pain. Zinnia pulled her shoulder from Jenson’s grasp. "Fine, I’ll come back, but on one condition."

Her attitude had softened. Jenson’s expression finally eased, and his tightly pursed lips relaxed. "Tell me."

"There’s an online composer named Backlit. She has a new piece of music, and I want it." Zinnia tilted her head up, her fists clenched.

She knew how powerful Jenson was. She didn’t want this piece to go to Crystal, but she also knew that if the Forrest Group kept investigating, they would eventually find her, and they had their ways of making her compromise.

Jenson hadn’t expected Zinnia to bring up Backlit. He frowned slightly. He had already promised this piece to Crystal as part of a deal. Besides, Crystal desperately needed this piece. Zinnia, who did nothing all day, likely just wanted it to spite Crystal.

He said in a deep voice, "Don’t be unreasonable. That’s not an option. Pick something else."

Zinnia bit her tongue, tasting the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. She knew it. She had just humiliated herself again.

"Be good. I won several flawless blood diamonds at an auction in M Country. Don’t you like the style of Tiff’s rising-star jewelry designer, Elsa? I can have her design a bracelet..."

Before Jenson could finish, Zinnia cut him off. "Give it to Crystal. She may not like blood, but I’m sure she likes blood diamonds."

She turned and walked away, not wanting to stay a second longer. Jewelry was a wonderful thing, but for a man like Jenson, it was also the laziest, most thoughtless gift to placate someone with.

He would move mountains to dig up information on ’Backlit,’ all because Crystal wanted it. He spent a fortune to secure the naming rights to an asteroid because it was for the child he was anticipating. But he never cared about what she, Zinnia Lawrence, needed. Even when she mustered all her courage to ask him for something, her request was met with dismissal and empty platitudes.

That fleeting moment of tenderness was probably just a ruse to lure her back.

Zinnia walked faster and faster, eventually breaking into a run. As she rounded a bend in the path, she collided with someone.

"I’m sorry, I..."

"Zinnia, what’s wrong?"

Alaric Hawthorne’s clear voice rang out. After finishing his business, he had felt uneasy and decided to come back.

Zinnia’s eyes were red. Not wanting him to see, she lowered her head and said, "I just remembered I have a part-time job I’m late for."

She tried to move past him, but Alaric sidestepped to let her by and then fell into step beside her. "I’ll give you a ride."

Zinnia’s heart ached. She didn’t want to talk, so she just walked faster.

Zinnia’s emotional outburst caught Jenson off guard, and a wave of irritation washed over him. He had never tried so hard to keep someone, yet she was still determined to get a divorce. It was as if every second with him was agony. Fine, let her go! She’ll learn her lesson after she crashes and burns!

But the image of her reddened eyes as she left flashed in his mind. Jenson abruptly broke into a stride, hurrying after her.

But then he saw them: Zinnia and Alaric Hawthorne walking away, one after the other. The setting sun cast their long shadows, merging them into one. The taller man’s figure completely eclipsed the woman’s.

A chill entered Jenson’s eyes, and he stopped in his tracks.

* * *

Zinnia went to the Veridia Theater. Although she hadn’t joined a dance company after graduation, her university mentor, Professor Lane, appreciated her talent. The professor was an honorary consultant for the theater’s dance troupe and allowed Zinnia to use the stage when it was unoccupied.

Zinnia occasionally came here to practice and record performance videos.

She connected her device to the sound system and stood barefoot in a pool of light. A violin melody, like a mournful lament, echoed through the space.

Using her right foot as a pivot, her delicate body swayed and spun. Her movements grew increasingly fluid and expansive, as graceful as a celestial fairy. It was as if she had shed the pull of gravity, dancing like a butterfly in flight.

The music shifted from sorrow to joy, from a slow lament to a frenzied tempo—much like Jenson was to Zinnia. A redeeming light, and yet also falling ash...

Jenson never knew the immense pressure Zinnia had endured during the four years he was away. She faced a constant barrage of gossip, slander, and insults from the outside world. This was coupled with the Forrest family’s disapproval, cold sarcasm, and relentless ostracism.

With her dance career forcibly ended and her brother’s accident, the weight was too much for Zinnia’s fragile twenty-year-old shoulders to bear. She even developed mild depression, which led to severe insomnia.

She had composed this very piece in a burst of inspiration after a near-fatal overdose on sleeping pills. She had woken to the chirping of birds at dawn, the memory of him from her dreams still fresh in her mind.

Zinnia danced with total abandon, her face a wet mask of what could have been sweat or tears.

Suddenly, the music cut off, and the bright stage lights flared to life.

Zinnia’s legs gave out. She collapsed to her knees, panting heavily as she lifted her head.

A figure was standing in the side entrance to the stage, watching her with a complex expression.