Fated love: the unwanted bride

She ate the ribs stuffed into her mouth.

Seeing her obedient, Sylvan Cheney smiled, his lips curling into a pleasing curve.

His left hand held her waist, preventing her from running away.

“I’m full, I don’t want to eat anymore, I want to sleep.”

“Don’t move,” Sylvan Cheney warned her, “I’m very angry today, you’d better not mess around.”

“Then why are you asking for vinegar? Aren’t you filled with it?”

“Who said I’m jealous? Is it worth it?”

Sylvan Cheney smirked and touched her face.

Jealous? Was this jealousy?

“Can you let me down? I don’t want to eat. When I see you, I lose my appetite.”

Sylvan Cheney’s gaze chilled: “Say that again.”

Jasmine Yale was frightened.

She didn’t dare to repeat it.

Sylvan Cheney’s eyes grew icy, she clearly looked at him differently compared to how she looked at Joe Heath.

She had thoughts, but she didn’t share them with him.

She lowered her head and silently toyed with her hair.

Sylvan Cheney fed her another mouthful: “Eat more, you’re too skinny.”

“I’m on a diet.”

“Diet?” Sylvan Cheney laughed as if he’d heard a joke, “Lose any more weight and you’ll disappear altogether.”

Over the past three years, when he was not around, she had obviously lost a lot of weight.

She wasn’t fat before, but she used to have a healthy glow, and her cheeks were rosy and shiny.

Jasmine Yale remained silent.

Sylvan Cheney himself didn’t eat much, he was too busy feeding her.

Jasmine Yale was held in his arms, it was very ambiguous.

They had never acted this affectionate before, they’d always been proper with each other at the Cheney residence.

Even if she leaned slightly towards him, he would avoid her.

Now it was different.

Very different.

It wasn’t clear if she had changed, or Sylvan Cheney had changed.

Perhaps because she slipped into his bed three years ago, he misinterpreted her as a lascivious woman who would sleep with anyone.

That’s why he was so frivolous with her.

“When are you leaving?” Jasmine Yale asked.

“Leave? I have no plans to leave.” Sylvan Cheney said casually.

“Sylvan Cheney, don’t you think you’ve gone too far?”

“I can go even further.”

As he spoke, he mischievously kissed her neck.

The kiss landed directly on her faintly visible scar.

It had long since healed, leaving no significant scars, but a faint trace was still visible.

That trace symbolised the life-or-death experiences they had been through together.

Suddenly, Sylvan Cheney’s heart tightened, as if seized by a hand.

Unexpectedly, Jasmine Yale was particularly sensitive there.

He kissed her, and she couldn’t help but shiver slightly.

She instinctively avoided him, her gaze shifty: “Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t love me anymore?”

“Yes.” Jasmine Yale responded indifferently.

As much as she used to love him, that’s how indifferent she was now.

He was someone she couldn’t afford to love.

“It doesn’t matter.” Sylvan Cheney casually picked up another piece of food with his chopsticks.

Jasmine Yale didn’t understand what he meant by these three words.

Sylvan Cheney’s face remained calm as he continued to feed her.

Jasmine Yale huddled in his arms, like a timid little rabbit.

Can’t move, can’t fuss, can’t escape.

Sylvan Cheney seemed to enjoy feeding her, especially when Jasmine Yale was docile and obedient.

He touched her fluffy hair: “It’s like I’ve raised a son and a daughter.”

Over the years, he’d always spoiled her.

He spoiled her like a dear daughter.