Chapter 841

Even now, I can’t help but think Jared must still carry a trace of regret in his heart. After all, I once married him filled with happiness and anticipation. I wonder, when he saw me in a wedding dress, did he remember that day—me walking down the aisle, slipping my hand into his palm? Does it still linger with him? I thought.

“He’s just my ex-husband. Whatever he says, don’t take it to heart,” I said, smiling at Ryan. “If I was bold enough to marry you, regret isn’t even on the table.”

Ryan was briefly stunned, but ignoring everyone else around us, he leaned down and kissed my cheek. “You got it. I don’t regret a thing either.”

There were sixteen tables at the wedding—seriously, the whole venue was packed. That’s when I realized just how powerful the Jennings family really was.

Today was also the first time I met Ryan’s mom, Vivian. She had this ear-length bob and came off as really sharp and capable—the kind of woman who’s all business. Honestly, I was a little surprised by just how much Ryan took after her. She was well into her fifties, but you’d barely know it with how well she carries herself. Not sure if there’s some awkwardness between her and Ryan, though, because she hardly spoke to us. She mostly stayed at the head table, deep in conversation with other guests.

That night, I lay in our new bedroom and just stared at the bright red double happiness character pasted above the bed. I zoned out for ages before a goofy smile crept onto my face—I seriously couldn’t believe all this was real.

Who would’ve thought I’d get a second chance at life, and rely on my own skill to land myself a husband? Not to mention, I had two little ones on the way and a young, drop-dead gorgeous man lying next to me, I thought to myself, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

Ryan had a bit too much to drink and was brought back to the room. When he saw me sitting on the bed in my bright red wedding dress, he stopped dead in his tracks. Then, he slowly walked toward me.

In his suit, he had that quiet noble air—reserved but so striking. He loosened his tie, tossed his jacket onto the sofa, and came right up to me. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was a little out of it.

But then, out of nowhere, he dropped to one knee in front of me, took my hand, and pressed it against his warm cheek.

His eyes were a bit red from the alcohol, yet right then, he looked at me with a kind of awe—almost reverent—as if I was the center of his world.

“Vic, I’m so happy today. Do you know that?” he whispered, closing his eyes and getting lost in the feeling of my palm against his skin. “I’ve waited three years for this, and now, finally, you’re mine for good.”

I watched Ryan, the look on his face said it all. Maybe I really was his first love, his dream girl—the one he could never quite let go of. Guys always have this soft spot for their very first crush.

But even though Ryan was being all sweet and honest, I wasn’t about to let myself get carried away—or lose my head over it.

I gazed at him, treating him like my own little puppy and reached out to gently soothe his face. I said,

“Alright, you’ve had too much to drink. Why don’t you lie down for a bit?”

Ryan got up, almost like a little kid, pleading softly, “Can you stay with me?”

“Sure,” I replied, a gentle smile on my lips. To be honest, I was pretty wiped out too—pregnancy just wears you out, no matter what kind of shoes you’re in.

As for the pregnancy, I hadn’t told anyone yet—other than my own family, nobody else had a clue.

I lay on my side, and before I knew it, Ryan’s tall frame snuggled up next to me, his face buried in my arms. That’s all it took for him to fall sound asleep.

I reached out and gently rubbed the back of his neck. Ryan might act shrewd with others, but when it comes to love, he’s innocent, stubborn, and true to his feelings.

Honestly, I love that about him—he’s all tough-guy to the world, but with me, he’s soft and sweet. It makes him easy for me to coax.

Of course, I’d never try to control him to the point he lost his joy or sense of self. All I want is for us to be a normal couple—talking things through, keeping things clear, and steering clear of silly misunderstandings.

When the babies arrive, we’ll raise them side by side, one day at a time.

Ryan was fast asleep, totally out from the alcohol—didn’t even stir a bit.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a text.

I quickly grabbed it and hit silent.

When I opened the message, my brain just froze.

It was Edwarn—and he’d sent me a picture of my prenatal checkup report.

I nearly jumped out of my skin and glanced down at Ryan, who was still out cold. Thankfully, he was sleeping like a little kid—totally oblivious.

I shot back a message, all nerves: [How did you even get this?]

Edward took ages to reply, but when he finally did, it was just one line: [Turns out Ryan really is the lucky one after all.]

I could hear the heartbreak in that reply.

All I could do was type: [I’m sorry.]

He never replied again, so I just deleted the chat.

I wished that would be the end of it—that all those crazy days between me and Uncle Ed would vanish, just like those texts. Once deleted, let them be gone for good.

I put my phone on silent, curled up beside Ryan, and let sleep quietly take us both.

Time flew by while I was pregnant, mostly because I still had a ton of work on my plate. I hired a couple of top-notch managers to handle things, but honestly, I was running out of steam myself. With my belly nearly eight months along, every movement felt like a chore—I barely wanted to get up, let alone go anywhere.

I really didn’t realize how draining having twins would be. Even though I changed up my diet and tried to do everything right, those stretch marks still appeared across my stomach. Staring at them, I felt pretty down about it—it was tough to accept.

I remembered back when I was pregnant with Yvonne, my stomach looked perfectly smooth.

So I just kept up with all kinds of skincare routines, telling myself I’d really go hard on postpartum recovery once the babies were born.