Chapter 88

It was only a small, almost imperceptible motion—Thomas slipping his hand into Cassandra’s, then pressing it gently against his chest—but that single gesture struck her like a tidal wave of comfort. Every doubt, every tremor of fear lodged deep in her heart, began to dissolve as she stared at him, disbelief and relief mingling in her eyes.

“My love,” she whispered, her voice cracking on the edge of tears and trembling anticipation. “You’re not angry with me?” A shudder ran through her, betraying the storm of guilt and shame she carried. “After everything… do you still care for me? Do you still love me? Do you still want me as your wife, even now?”

She waited, every breath hanging on his answer. The sterile hum of the hospital room faded into the background as Thomas turned to her, his expression softening with tenderness. He smiled—a warm, steady curve of reassurance.

“Oh, my silly wife,” he murmured, brushing a strand of loose hair from her forehead. “Do you reall