Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

Fitch instantly noticed something was off with Zoey and inquired softly, "Feeling under the weather?"
Zoey didn't answer, reaching almost reflexively for the glass of water in front of her. But the water had sat too long and had turned cold. Just as she was about to speak up, Fitch seemed to sense her need, flagging down a waiter and requesting a cup of hot water. Zoey's lips had turned an ashen shade of white, and she didn't even have the strength to push away the man she resented.
He stood up and headed outside, while Zoey buried her forehead in the crook of her arm, leaning forward onto the table.
In a short while, Fitch returned with a box of ibuprofen. He tore the package open, gently lifted her head, and coaxed a pill into her mouth, following it with a sip of water. Zoey's eyelashes quivered, her hands shaking as she tried to push him away.
But Fitch called the waiter over again, instructed them to tidy up the stool, and then, taking off his suit jacket, he tied it around Zoey's waist.
Covered in cold sweat, Zoey was hoisted into his arms, finding refuge in his embrace.
Her vision was blurry, only able to discern his chin.
She tried to speak, to say something, but the words wouldn't come.
Placed in the passenger seat, the cold sweat on her intensified.
Fitch drove to his place, having not yet moved across from Zoey's. Recently, he and Nolan had been staying there.
Once on the couch, Zoey felt uncomfortable.
As her mind cleared slightly, she realized she had been taken to Fitch's home without her consent.
She wanted to protest, but where could she go at this hour? Going home would worry her parents and jeopardize her upcoming trip abroad. Besides, her pants were soiled, rendering a return to school impossible.
Leaning back, the ibuprofen began to kick in, easing her pain significantly.
"Thanks," she murmured.
Fitch brought her another steaming cup of water, holding it to her lips.
"Drink a little more," he insisted.
Zoey managed a weak smile. "Thanks."
"You sit tight. I've got someone bringing over what you need, should be just a few minutes."
Zoey felt even more uneasy, yet this was no time for pride. If she didn't accept Fitch's kindness, how was she to get back later?
"Okay."
The delivery was indeed swift. Zoey changed into a clean pair of pants in the restroom and tossed her soiled ones into the trash. Catching sight of the bloodstain on the fine suit jacket, her brow furrowed. She packed the jacket into a bag, left the restroom, and approached Fitch. "How much for the clothes? I'll reimburse you."
Fitch looked like he wanted to
dismiss the offer but then saw an opportunity to exchange contact information.
He pulled out his phone, ready to add her as a friend.
Zoey, not wanting to be rude, scanned the code and added him.
"A hundred bucks," he stated matter-of-factly.
She looked at him, tempted to ask if he'd made a mistake; a hundred dollars probably wouldn't even cover a sleeve.
Fitch watched her, expecting her to understand.
Zoey took a deep breath and transferred a thousand dollars.
"Mr. Haskins, that's not necessary. I can afford it. Thanks for today. I need to get
back to class now."
"I'll drive you."
"No need."
She uttered those words and walked away, but Fitch followed behind.
At this point, Zoey was too drained to quibble, so she let him be.
Upon reaching the school, she first stopped by her classroom to find Nolan sitting alone, looking dejected.
Zoey hurried over and asked softly, "Nolan, what's up?"
Nolan shook his head, his gaze fixed on her face with the same intensity Fitch
had shown.
Zoey offered him a reassuring smile.
"If anything's the matter, you'll tell the teacher, right?"
He nodded, his lips pressed tightly, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks.
Zoey was about to offer more comfort when she heard a commotion nearby.
"Ms. March, she wet her pants!"
The girl in question burst into tears, and Zoey rushed to comfort her, taking the child to get changed.
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She was busy until the school day
ended and finally took a moment to rest. Already feeling unwell, her
stomach began to ache even more.
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Checking in the classroom, she found Nolan still face-down on his desk. Thinking
he was asleep, she called out gently, "Nolan?"
She got no response and realized he was burning up with fever.
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Startled, she was assessing the situation when Fitch appeared, m looking for them seeing the child's condition, he scooped Nolan up and strode out. The content is on
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Zoey, concerned, followed closely. Nolan stirred awake, his cheeks flushed with
fever, coughing.
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It was clear that in front of Zoey, he
had been holding back his coughs, not wanting to seem disobedient or arting to troublesome, especially since Zoey seemed tired that day. He didn't want
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longer.