When Her Death Couldn't Break Him novel Chapter 391

Chapter 391 New Year
The Epean-style mantel clock inside the house chimed softly, signaling the arrival of midnight.

Martha glanced at the time and said, “It's already midnight. I'm off to rest.”

“All right,” Cecilia replied, watching the elderly woman retreat inside. Her hand instinctively rested on her baby bump as Martha's earlier words echoed in her mind, leaving her conflicted.

Just a few days ago, Martha had harbored nothing but disdain for Nathaniel. How did her feelings change so rapidly that she's now suggesting I consider a future with him?

Cecilia glanced again toward Nathaniel and the children, but she still shook her head.

No. I can't make the same mistake.

Once the branches and snow had been cleared, Nathaniel returned inside with the two kids. Without missing a beat, Cecilia lit the fireplace to warm them up. “Take a warm bath later and then get some sleep,” she instructed.

The children nodded. They had only been directing Nathaniel, so the cold hadn't gotten to them.

Nathaniel, however, bore the brunt of the winter chill. His slender, graceful hands had turned a frosty red, but his expression remained as stoic as ever.

Here, he undertook menial tasks and manual labor that he had never done before in his life.

Reflecting on the night's events, Cecilia felt a growing apprehension about facing him. Once the two little ones were warmed up, she quickly ushered them off to bathe and fetch fresh clothes.

Perhaps it was the prolonged exposure to the cold, but the fire of desire in Nathaniel's heart had finally been extinguished, leaving only a quiet resolve in its place.

On New Year's Day, Cecilia was up early, bustling around to prepare a delicious breakfast for the two little ones and decorating the house.

Having spent the past few years abroad, she had always celebrated Christmas but never truly experienced a New Year's Day celebration. This year was different, and she was eager to embrace it.

As she headed toward the kitchen, she was surprised to find Nathaniel already there, chatting with the chef.

Dressed casually in an apron, he exuded a warm, homely charm that caught her off guard.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Nathaniel set down the ravioli he was holding and turned his head slightly. “Ceci,” he said, his tone resolute.