The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 239

<Chapter 121-

Chapter 121-1

The next morning

The water hits my sore muscles in a hot, steaming cascade, beating against my shoulders and running down my back in heavy, cleansing streams.

The bathroom is thick with white fog, smelling of my rose body wash and the sharp, woody soap Locke uses. I stand under the showerhead with my eyes closed, my head tilted back, letting the heat work out the deep ache in my hips and thighs… a sweet, persistent reminder of last night.

For a few minutes, under the steady rush of the water, everything feels simple. The world shrinks down to the white tile, the rise and fall of my breath, and the comforting weight of being alive and safe.

Then, the frosted glass door slides open.

The cool air of the bathroom slips into the enclosure for a second before Locke steps in, shutting the door behind him. The water instantly hits his wide, dark-tattooed shoulders, plastering his hair to his forehead. He wipes the water from his eyes with the back of his hand, his gaze finding mine through the steam.

Even in the roomy walk-in shower, he takes up so much space. His broad frame, heavy muscles, and scarred skin look like carved stone against the white tile.

He steps into the stream, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind, pulling my back flush against his chest. He rests his chin on my shoulder, his warm breath fanning against my ear as the hot water cascades over both of us.

“Morning,” he rumbles, his deep voice vibrating straight through my spine.

“Morning,” I say softly, resting my hands over his large forearms where they hold me against his ribs.

He turns his head slightly, pressing a soft, wet kiss to the crook of my neck. His skin is warm, his pulse steady and calm against my back. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” I say teasingly. “In the best way.”

Locke lets out a chuckle. “Good. You slept like the dead.”

“So did you.”

He doesn’t deny it. He just squeezes my waist, his broad hands sliding down to rest against my hips. For a moment, we just stand there together, letting the hot water wash over us in quiet solidarity.

But as the silence stretches on, my smile fades. The background noise of reality, the quiet clock ticking in the back of my mind, starts to push its way back through the steam.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow morning is my next chemotherapy session.

Maybe my last, if all has gone well.

The thought settles in my chest like a cold stone. I try to keep my posture relaxed, try not to let the sudden

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Chapter 121.

Cham

knot in my throat show, but Locke knows my body too well. He feels the subtle, involuntary tightening in my shoulders instantly.

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, his hands smoothing up my ribs, his thumb brushing over the side of my breast. “What is it?”

I take a slow breath, letting the hot water run over my face before I answer. “Just… thinking about tomorrow.”

Locke goes still behind me. “Chemo.”

“Yeah,” I whisper, turning slightly in his arms so I can look up at him. Water drops cling to his eyelashes, framing eyes that are instantly full of steady, fierce focus. “I’m just thinking about everything on your plate right now, Locke. You’ve got Knox out there somewhere, even if he doesn’t know it was the MC. Dad’s on high alert, the club is stretched thin.”

“That’s my job,” Locke says firmly, his tone leaving zero room for argument. “I handle it.”

“I know you handle it,” I say. “You handle everything. But tomorrow, after the treatment… I’m going to be us eless for two or three days. The fatigue hits like a ton of bricks, and you know how sick I get. You can’t be sitting in a hospital chair or hovering over my bed for forty-eight hours straight with the club as it is.”

“I’m taking you to the hospital, Zara.” Locke’s jaw clenches, his brows drawing together. “And I’m staying with you. End of discussion.”

“I know you are,” I say gently, laying my palm flat against his chest, feeling the heavy thud of his heart. “And I want you there, for the chemo. But afterward, when I’m just flat on my ass here in the penthouse… you can’t be torn between checking me and running security details. The pressure is too much.”

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