My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage

Chapter 568:

Kristopher ignored her protests, his hand reaching between her legs. Her anger and humiliation burned fiercely, but her body betrayed her, responding to the heat of his touch despite her mind’s objections. He kicked the door shut, carried her to the sofa, and laid her down gently. Yet there was an urgency in his actions, a frantic kind of devotion. “I don’t care if we have children or not,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you, Carrie. Just you. Nothing else matters.”noveldrama

He had never told her he loved her except in front of others. The first time he said it was during a family gathering. With one hand still restraining her, he unbuttoned his pants with the other. Carrie’s body tensed as he thrust into her, his face buried in her neck, his lips tracing gentle kisses along her collarbones. His mouth moved downward, the thin fabric of her nightgown barely separating his lips from her skin.

Carrie’s body trembled, a physiological response she couldn’t control. But her mind recoiled in shame. Even in anger, she had never been able to resist making love with Kristopher. Tonight, however, felt like torture—a battle between her mind and her body’s betrayal, leaving her feeling almost violated. Kristopher was lost in his desire, moving with a fervent desperation, as though this was the only way he knew to prove his love. He had never been so afraid of losing someone.

He had never been this anxious—not even when Carrie had threatened him with divorce. He was desperate to prove his love, to show he didn’t care whether she could have children or not. He simply loved her, simply wanted her.

As Carrie’s conflicted agony reached its peak, she choked out a plea: “Kristopher, please don’t…” After one final thrust, Kristopher stopped, pulling her into his arms, inhaling the scent of her sweat-dampened hair. “I love you, Carrie,” he whispered, his voice soft and gentle.

Carrie’s body remained rigid, her skin cold to the touch. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she murmured, “Kristopher, is making love the only way you know how to love someone?”

Kristopher’s body went still at Carrie’s question. His throat constricted, leaving him momentarily speechless. He didn’t know how to explain himself—not because he lacked words, but because he lacked understanding. He had never known what love truly was, nor how to express it.

His family had raised him to excel in everything—business, leadership, negotiation. They had taught him how to conquer the world, how to read people, how to make decisions with precision. But they had never taught him how to love. For years, he believed love was a transaction, a responsibility to fulfill. He had showered Carrie with jewelry, luxury handbags, and endless financial support, thinking that was the language of affection. Yet she had refused his wealth, choosing instead to earn her own through acting, standing tall in her independence.

Later, when their physical connection grew, Kristopher assumed intimacy was enough to bridge the gap between them. For a time, it felt like two broken hearts finding solace in each other. But eventually, he realized that what he had mistaken for love was little more than primal desire—a raw need to hold her close without truly understanding what she wanted or needed.

He had thought Carrie’s grief over her infertility stemmed from a fear of rejection—either from him or, worse, from his family, who had long applied subtle pressure for children. To Kristopher, her inability to conceive was no failing of hers. He had convinced himself that actions, rather than words, could reassure her. If he showed her how deeply he desired her, she would understand that she was enough for him.

He wanted to show her that he didn’t care whether she could bear children. Besides, having children was never solely a woman’s responsibility. He thought that if he tried harder, it might increase the chances of pregnancy. He never imagined his fervent display of affection would leave her looking so heartbroken.

Kristopher bent down and kissed Carrie’s forehead. “You’re tired,” he murmured softly, evading her question. “Let me help you clean up. You need rest. Everything will feel better in the morning.”

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