No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 1268

Eleanor put down her phone and looked out the window, a helpless expression on her face as she picked up her teacup. "We both need to move on."

Just then, her phone buzzed again, four or five times in a row, as if photos were being sent.

Eleanor immediately picked it up, assuming they were pictures of her daughter.

Sure enough, several adorable photos of Evelyn appeared. She was clearly having a wonderful time, her smile radiant.

"Are those pictures of Evelyn? Let me see, I haven't seen her in ages."

Eleanor handed her the phone. As Joy was admiring the pictures, a new message popped up on the screen.

[Evelyn misses you. Should I have someone pick you up to come relax here?] It was from Ian.

Joy blinked, looked at Eleanor, and handed the phone back. "Ian texted you again."

Eleanor took it and read the message, her brow furrowing slightly. She typed back a reply. [Sorry, I can't get away. Please take good care of Evelyn.]

Joy's curiosity, which had subsided, began to flare up again. Ian's tone was clearly that of a man trying to win someone back.

Did Evelyn miss Eleanor, or did *he* miss Eleanor?

After sending the message, Eleanor looked up to find Joy watching her with a meaningful gaze. She blinked. "What are you thinking about now?"

"Is Ian trying to win you back?" Joy asked, her expression like that of an interrogator.

Eleanor was rendered a little speechless by the question. She put her phone down. "You're overthinking it. It's just that Evelyn misses me."

Joy felt that Eleanor wasn't telling the whole truth. "With a personality like Ian's, why would he send such an ambiguous invitation if he didn't have other intentions? It's obvious he wants you there."

Eleanor could sense that Ian was trying to make up for the past, but that was his decision. She had no intention of accepting it.

He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, steam blurring the hard lines of his face and leaving him looking oddly alone.

It was quiet all around, save for the sound of the flowing spring water. His mind was uncontrollably filled with the image of Eleanor, and of Mansfield gazing at her with gentle eyes.

Without any interruptions, their relationship would surely be progressing rapidly.

The thought slipped in out of nowhere and hit him with a sudden, private hurt.

He snapped his eyes open. Even in the dim light, the bitterness and anguish swirling in his gaze were undeniable.

Mansfield needed care right now. He was the man Eleanor had risked everything, overdrafted her own life, to save.

She was probably by his side, caring for him meticulously, as if he were a precious treasure. They might even be so intimate they could be sharing a bed at night.