Chasing My Pregnant Wife

After hanging up the phone, Rosalie examined the house.

It was a two-story standalone building. From the outside, one couldn't see through the glass to the interior. However, from the inside, one could see the outside clearly.

She knocked on the glass and realized it was different from ordinary glass. Sometimes, she saw houses in certain Melrinen neighborhoods that seemed unsafe because of all the glass; one could easily smash it to gain entry.

Although private property was highly protected in Melrine and breaking in was a felony, there were always people who might take desperate risks. If someone wanted to break in, it would be quite easy.

However, this house was different. It seemed to have specially designed glass that felt unique to the touch, yet it was transparent. This type of glass would likely resist even a hammer, and if she guessed correctly, bullets would struggle to prate it.

The house, decorated in a minimalist style, was clean and tidy. Suddenly, she noticed two unwashed plates in the kitchen sink.

Just when she thought everything was clean and orderly, those two plates proved her wrong. Rosalie's OCD kicked in, and she rolled up her sleeves to wash the plates, after which she put them on the rack.

Opening the refrigerator, she found only some water and beer, along with a few fruits that had likely been there for a long time as their skins were all wrinkled. What did this man usually eat?

Rosalie took a quick look around and found a bloody handkerchief next to the sofa. She picked it up, realizing it was the one she had used to stop his bleeding. He had dragged his injured body to pick it up again. She wondered what he had been thinking at that moment.

Taking the handkerchief to the bathroom, Rosalie rinsed it with cold water and casually hung it on a nearby rack to dry. Suddenly, she heard a commotion from the room.

She quickly entered the room and found Vincent struggling on the bed, his brow furrowed and muttering something. Rosalie rushed over, unsure of what to do. Was he in pain from his wounds or having a nightmare? Perhaps it was both.

Getting closer, she finally heard what he was saying.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Hearing those words filled Rosalie with confusion. Who was he apologizing to? He suddenly waved

his hand in the air, as if trying to grasp something. Rosalie

immediately took it.

to

In an instant, he pulled her into his embrace, holding Rosalie tightly. She lost her balance and collided with his chest.

Just as she was about to get up,

Vincent held onto her tightly,

trembling as he whispered in

J

her

"I'm sorry, Youngie, I'm sorryd didn't

protect you well."

Youngie? Rosalie felt puzzled upon hearing that name. Who was Youngie? Although her surname was Young, she knew he wasn't referring to her.

His pale face was filled with pain, regret, and even despair.

"Youngie, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Vincent repeatedly uttered apologies, clearly in great distress.

Feeling sympathy for him, Rosalie quickly took a towel to wipe the sweat from his forehead, softly saying in his ear, "It's okay, I don't blame you."

Though Vincent hadn't fully woken up, he gradually relaxed as he heard her voice, easing the tension in his furrowed brow.

Before long, he fell into a deep sleep.

After a while, Rosalie carefully

moved his arm from around her and

placed it on the pillow. Then, she brought a chair to the bedside,Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

sitting down to keep him company.