Chasing My Pregnant Wife (Rosalie and Theodore) novel Chapter 220

Chapter 220 

Theodore had always been strong. Even though Rosalie felt tired in his arms, she couldn’t see any signs of fatigue on his face. 

After a while, his gaze shifted away from her face, and he carried her away. He carried her all the way back to their room, laying her roughly on the bed. Though his actions were a bit harsh, the bed was soft, and she didn’t feel uncomfortable. 

However, from his demeanor, she knew he was angry. 

Theodore was still in his suit; a few buttons of his shirt undone, revealing his strong chest. He stood with his hands on his hips, glaring coldly at Rosalie on the bed. 

He wanted to say something to her, but seeing her panicked face and clutching the blanket, he gritted his teeth and dropped his hands. Then, he impatiently threw his jacket aside. 

Rosalie wrapped herself tightly in the blanket, adopting a defensive posture. 

They were getting divorced tomorrow, but Theodore had brought her back to their shared bedroom. Was he planning to spend the night here? 

She didn’t want to engage in any sentimental last–night embraces with him. They had gone through too many of those. 

Theodore turned and left, slamming the door behind him. Rosalie’s heart raced as the door slammed shut. She hugged the blanket to her chest, trembling weakly. 

She had been sleeping peacefully at Sebastian’s place, but Theodore had suddenly dragged her back here. Now, she couldn’t fall asleep. 

She tossed and turned in bed, restless. 

She reached for her phone to check the time, only to realize it was still at Sebastian’s place. 

As the night wore on, she finally felt a wave of sleepiness wash over her. 

Rosalie drifted off to sleep. Not long after, the door burst open, startling her awake. 

She sat up abruptly in bed. If she had to endure a few more of these, she’d end up with a heart attack. The room’s light flicked on, and Theodore walked in. He was still wearing the same clothes as he approached her bedside. 

As he got closer, Rosalie caught a whiff of the strong scent of alcohol. She furrowed her brow. 

“Have you been drinking again?” 

It was almost an instinctive reaction. 

He had stomach problems, but he insisted on drinking. Wasn’t he just tormenting himself? 

“What, now the woman who thought I was going to throw her down the stairs cares if I’m drinking or not?” His icy tone carried a hint of mockery. 

Rosalie’s hand, hidden beneath the covers, clenched suddenly. She replied coldly, “Who cares about you? I was just asking a question. Drink if you want. It’s your body, not mine!” 

After their divorce, he would be Cynthia’s problem. There would be other women to care about him. Why should Rosalie care? 

Rosalie lay back down, pulling the covers over herself, signaling that she didn’t want to engage further. But Theodore suddenly stepped