After her shower, Jessica settled down at the desk and began sketching patterns onto the fabric spread before her.

She knew the fabric would fray once it was cut, and since she didn't have the right stiffening spray at home, she'd had a professional at the textile market handle it for her.

At least she wasn't a stranger to crafts-years of helping Henry with his paper- cutting projects had kept her hands nimble and her lines steady.

Her movements were fluid, almost instinctive.

Still, after that dizzy spell this morning-passing out in the car and ending up in the hospital-she wasn't quite herself. A dull ache pulsed in her abdomen.

When she'd first heard the diagnosis-cancer-she hadn't believed it. She'd always felt healthy, never had any pain. The only time she could recall real discomfort was that one day her stomach hurt so badly she'd gone to the hospital -and that was when her world shattered.

Life could change in an instant.

The doctor had warned her: if she was feeling pain, it meant things were already serious.

Ever since then, even the smallest twinge seemed magnified.

She stood up and took a couple of pills, waiting for the pain to subside, then quietly returned to her work.

Ten minutes later, there was a soft chime.

The door opened.

Timothy had already

eyes narrowed, brows

entered with a chill in his demeanor, dark

continuing her careful lines on

was cold, his handsome

yet she didn't even acknowledge

a moment, he

sandalwood, her hand pausing for just a second before she

wall, silent for a while, then finally spoke, his voice low and gravelly—almost beautiful in its roughness. "So, how long are you planning to

her head

bedroom was the scratch of her pencil

by her silence, stubbed out his cigarette, grabbed the pencil from her hand and tossed it onto the desk. He gripped her

you really going to

soft and distant, yet her

something

He released her jaw.

spoke to my grandfather. It has nothing

pocket, he produced a velvet box. He took out

sparkled, catching the

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