Dear Ex-wife, Marry Me novel Chapter 1596

The housekeeper came into the den with a message that set Fitch’s teeth on edge. “Sir, Ms. Bennitt is at the front gate. Should I let her in?”

Fitch felt an immediate distaste at the thought of seeing her. He had pegged her as a stable sort, never imagining she could stir up such scandal.

“No,” he replied, his voice sharp with finality. After his brief response, he grabbed his coat from the rack and exited through the back door.

It wasn’t until he pulled up to the pet store that he realized why he had driven there.

Ozzy was gone, and in a way, it was on his conscience. It only seemed right to get a new puppy for Zoey as a gesture of atonement.

But as he walked among the rare breeds, his gaze kept being drawn to a memory of a scrappy little gray mongrel that somehow seemed more sincere, more beautiful than the ones before him.

Hesitating only a moment, he chose a pristine white pup and, carrying it in a crate, inquired about Zoey’s whereabouts.

Learning that she was in the hospital, he immediately set off in that direction.

Halfway there, he realized that he wouldn't normally do such a thing for anyone else. His brow furrowed as he pondered whether it was his involvement that had dragged Zoey into this mess to begin with.

Pressing the accelerator, he continued toward the hospital.

Zoey’s fever had broken, and she was awake, though her lips were cracked and bloody. She said nothing, staring blankly at the ceiling, haunted by dreams of Ozzy wagging his little tail, and then of Wendy heartlessly dropping him from a height. Pain throbbed through her—there wasn't a place that didn't hurt.

It seemed to be a cruel pattern in her life: everything she tried to hold onto inevitably slipped away, even a mere pet.

Cornelia walked in with a steaming bowl of broth and placed it beside Zoey. “Drink some soup; you’re weak,” she urged gently.

Zoey blinked slowly and tried to sit up, her stomach churning at the sight and smell of the broth.

Her face drained of color as she clutched her stomach, “Cornelia, could I have a moment alone, please?”

Understanding her distress, Cornelia nodded. “I’ll leave for now and check on you later. The nurses will bring your meals. Try to eat something; you’ve lost too much weight.”

Indeed, between the accident and the fever, Zoey had lost a significant amount of weight.

She attempted a smile but found it impossible to muster.

Once alone, Zoey leaned back and zoned out, wearing a hospital gown with the window ajar, letting in a breeze that seemed to threaten to break her.