The Wrong Woman

Mila chuckled at the mention of "second marriage”. After a bit of conversation, Sienna and Mila ended their call.

Leaning in close to Nathan's ear, Mila asked, "Do you enjoy holding my hands?"

Nathan glanced at her and whispered, “I enjoy it very much.”

Mila withdrew her hand and muttered, "They're just hands, you know. You have them, too."

“It's different," Nathan replied softly.

He cradled her head and kissed her. As panic rose, she pushed his chest to create some space between their lips.

"You—"

Nathan interrupted Mila by commanding, "Don't move."

She immediately froze. He lifted her onto his lap and wrapped his arm around her waist. He cradled her head as he passionately sought out her kiss.

It felt like he was trying to compensate for not kissing her enough by kissing her twice as much.

His kisses were intense and passionate, while his hands were restrained and respectful of boundaries. Mila sensed him holding back as they kissed.

She had noticed before that Nathan was skilled at controlling himself. She had even started to wonder if he might be impotent. Her pregnancy had proven otherwise. He was capable and determined.

During her pregnancy, Nathan refrained from touching her. At night, they slept in the same room but in separate beds. Nathan's idea of a honeymoon was simply being together, doing nothing but cuddling

silently.

As long as she stayed by his side, Mila was free to do whatever she wanted. She could read, use her phone, enjoy the view, or even daydream. Instead of traveling far distances, they preferred to go on relaxed walks, holding hands.

Nathan enjoyed cooking for Mila and always made sure she avoided unhealthy food. He even delegated all of his work to his assistant, put his phone on silent mode, and ignored the trivial things. Contents belong to NovelDrama.Org

To him, the most important thing in the world was Mila, his pregnant wife.

It was a chilly winter morning. The sunlight filtered through the branches and danced through the window into the living room. It cast a speckled pattern of light that softly illuminated Mila's face.

She leaned back in the recliner by the window, basking in the tranquility of the morning.

Suddenly, the silence was shattered by the sound of swift footsteps. The locked front door swung open. Mila turned in surprise to see Fenna standing there, looking disheveled and angry.

Fenna panted and glared at Mila. "Wanda? What are you doing here? Where's Nate?"

Mila slowly sat up from the recliner, uncertain what to do as she glanced at Fenna. Even though she legally wed to Nathan, she couldn't shake the feeling of being in a compromising situation.

Worried about her baby's safety due to Fenna's aggressive demeanor, Mila instinctively placed a hand on her stomach and stood up slowly. She moved closer to the window and gestured toward the kitchen. "He's making breakfast."

Fenna snorted and spoke through gritted teeth, "You're letting the Norvanian military general make your breakfast? Wanda, are you crazy? Don't you realize how busy he is and how valuable his time is?

You—"

Mila swallowed nervously, worried that Fenna might turn physically aggressive. Just as Mila was about to explain, Nathan showed up with food in hand.

His voice was firm and resolute as he stressed each word. "I'm making breakfast for my wife and it's a perfectly ordinary thing to do. Why does it have to be linked to my role as a national leader?"