Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption-Chapter 133: Fear...

Jessica felt her emotions crashing down the moment Davis asked that question. It was as if a dam inside her had cracked, and all the pain she had pushed away for years began to leak out.

A heavy lump formed in her throat. She wanted to cry, to scream, to let it all out and beg him not to love her—not now, not like this. But how could she say those words? How could she ask him to stop giving her the one thing she had longed for—care, affection, and love?

Though crippled, Davis was perfect in every way that mattered. Though bound to a wheelchair, he was whole in all the places that counted. He had been nothing but gentle and kind to her.

But it wasn’t part of the plan. It was never supposed to happen like this. She had made peace with letting him go when he found his true love—a wife meant for him.

"Babe," his voice came through the phone again, sharper this time, laced with a frustration that made her heart squeeze, "Can you tell me what the fuck happened in the few minutes you just left home?"

Jessica felt herself collapse "How could she tell him? How could she say that she was scared, scared of how deeply she was starting to care, of how easily his love was breaking through her defenses?

How could she explain the fear that gripped her when she thought about ending up like her mother—betrayed, unloved, and eventually destroyed?

She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. He must never see that side of her. Her pain, her sorrow, her broken pieces they needed to remain hidden. "He shouldn’t know my weakness. He shouldn’t see the broken parts I hide behind a strong face." She chided herself.

She had to be perfect. The perfect lady. The composed woman he believed she was. But then... why was her heart trembling so much? Why did it feel like every wall she built was slowly crumbling because of him?

Now she cried more easily, flinched at the smallest thing, grew anxious over a word or a glance. Her heart responded to emotions like it never had before.

All because of him.

"I’m okay," she whispered, barely able to get the words out. It was a lie, but it was all she could manage to say.

There was silence on the line for a beat before his voice came again, firm and commanding. "Give the phone to the driver."

Jessica’s eyes widened. "The driver?" she echoed, her voice shaking. Panic surged through her. Why would he want to speak to the driver? This wasn’t good.

But Davis didn’t wait. He repeated the instruction, his tone sharper, firmer. There was no room for negotiation and she can’t object.

Jessica’s hands trembled as she handed the phone to the driver without a word. She lowered her eyes, bracing herself for whatever comes next.

The driver looked at her with slight confusion, then took the phone and answered respectfully.

Davis didn’t waste time. He went straight to the point, asking if anything had happened on the drive to the hospital. The driver, a little surprised but careful, admitted he had noticed a change in Jessica’s mood. How she had grown quiet, withdrawn, and tense.

Having worked under her for years, he will be a fool not to know such a little thing but he dare not say anything or interfere but with her husband’s question—he had nothing to hide.

When the phone was returned to her, Jessica could barely meet the driver’s eyes. She rubbed her forehead, feeling overwhelmed.

With just one call... Davis had peeled back layers she wasn’t ready to expose.Her heart whispered one undeniable truth—Davis wasn’t just "something." He was becoming everything.

And that terrified her. "You can wait outside," Jessica told the driver quietly. He obeyed without a word, stepping out and shutting the door with a soft, respectful thud.

Inside the car, her fingers trembled as she held the phone. She barely managed to bring it to her ear.

"Mrs. Davis Allen?" His voice came through, hesitant but warm laced with worry, longing, and care... they tugged at her heart.

And that was it.

Her walls broke. The tears she had fought so hard to suppress came rushing out, soaking her cheeks, she gasped quietly, unable to breathe through the flood of emotion.

Davis, still on the other end of the call, could hear everything. He said nothing at first. But his heart tightened, his grip on the phone harder turning his knuckles white. His other hand moved, wheeling himself across the room.

He hated hearing her like that—so broken, so hurt.

"Babe... what time is the surgery scheduled?" His voice was careful, trying not to startle her, but it carried a sharp edge of urgency. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

Jessica couldn’t speak. The lump in her throat was too painful to swallow. Her voice was gone. All she had was silence.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. And then—beep. The call ended.

~Jessica’s mansion~

Davis wasted no time. He called Richard without delay. "Put every surgery she has this morning on hold. Two hours minimum," he ordered, his voice low and firm.

Richard blinked. "What’s going on? Is she okay?" His voice rose slightly, alarm setting in.

"She’s not. Her emotions are all over the place. She can’t go into surgery like this. Tell me—who’s the best driver we have?"

Richard was silent for a moment, then said something Davis wasn’t expecting. "Actually... your shadow guard driver. Jessica assigned her best security staff to you quietly when you moved in."

Davis’s breath caught. Jessica... she did all that for him? He didn’t respond. Instead, he ended the call and summoned the driver.

"Take me to her hospital," Davis ordered. "How long?"

"An hour," the man replied.

"Make it ten minutes," Davis said flatly as he was helped into the car, his wheelchair loaded into the trunk. Instantly, a sleek formation of black cars and motorcycles followed. His security detail was moving like shadows, silent but sharp.

For the first time since his accident, Davis was leaving the mansion. Watching the guards work, one truth hit him hard—Jessica had placed all this around him. Not for show. Not for power. Just to protect him.

His lips curved slightly. She had cared more than he thought.

Brian, the driver, lived up to his reputation. Traffic lights turned meaningless. With clean swerves and calculated speed, they arrived at the hospital in just ten minutes. The other guards melted away like mist, keeping a tight perimeter without being seen.

Jessica was still inside her car when she noticed Davis’s vehicle pull up beside hers. She quickly wiped her tears, but her eyes were swollen and red, her face pale.

She had really cried so hard. Years of pain, silence, and memories had come pouring out like a river breaking through a cracked dam.

Then the door opened. Cold air swept in. And her heart stopped. Davis was sitting there, his gaze locked on her.

Jessica’s world tilted. She blinked. She tried to speak, but no words came. Her lips moved in shock. Without thinking, she scrambled out of the car and crouched to his level, her hands trembling as she slid a face mask over his face.

Davis didn’t say a word.

He only stared at her—at the red around her eyes, at the way her body shook, at the pain she tried so hard to hide.

His fists clenched. She had cried. Someone had made her cry. And that... that was unforgivable. He slowly removed the mask from his face, his gaze boring into her.

He reached out and pulled her close. She didn’t resist because there is no need to, besides even if she resist he will definitely insist. His arms wrapped around her with a gentleness that made her want to cry again.

Then, softly, he leaned in and kissed her eyelids. Jessica instinctively shut her eyes. She felt the warmth of his lips against her skin. The salty taste of her tears touched him—and it broke him inside.

"Why are you crying?" he whispered with heartache in his voice. Jessica’s nose stung. Her eyes burned again. But no. She had cried enough.

"I’m not a crybaby," she told herself firmly. "I’m not."

But inside, she knew, he made her feel too much. She had told herself she would leave when the time came. That she could handle being close to him without letting it get to her. But then, she was wrong.

Though crippled, Davis had been perfect. Though tied to a wheelchair, he had loved her in ways no man ever had.

His patience when she throws a tantrum, his attention when she didn’t expect it, his understanding... it scared her.

She wanted to push him away. To hide the scars of her past. To bury the pain of watching her mother die in a marriage full of heartbreak.

But how?

How could she live without the warmth of his voice? How could she breathe without the comfort of his presence?

Even earlier on the phone, he had sensed her mask. "Why are you pretending?" he had asked.

Even through a phone call, he had seen her truth.

Now, staring into his eyes, her heart felt exposed. "I didn’t want you to see me like this," she whispered finally, her voice barely audible.

"I’d rather see your tears than have you cry alone," Davis replied. He reached up and wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb.

"You don’t have to be perfect for me."

Jessica felt something stir in her chest. A quiet warmth. A flicker of safety.

For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel alone. She felt... understood. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. She didn’t know if her heart could survive the heartbreak.

But right now, in this moment, with Davis holding her, she felt something she hadn’t felt in years. She felt like she mattered.