The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 795

Sammie slid into the driver’s seat and buckled up, but something about Rebecca caught his eye.

She was hunched over, arms wrapped tight around her stomach. Her face was paler than before, sweat beading along her hairline.

It hit Sammie at once—her period was due any day now. Every month, Rebecca was tormented by cramps that left her looking just like this.

Without missing a beat, he reached into the back and pulled out a thermos. When he twisted the lid, a cloud of fragrant, soothing tea filled the car.

He handed the cup over, his voice as steady as ever, though there was a quiet gentleness in it that most would miss. “Here, drink some hot tea. It’ll help.”

Rebecca stared at the thermos in surprise, then glanced at Sammie’s stoic profile.

His face was as impassive as always, eyes fixed on the road ahead—as if this was nothing more than a routine gesture.

But Rebecca knew better. Sammie was always like this.

He remembered all her habits, anticipated everything she might need, always prepared—but never said a word about caring, never so much as hinted at love.

She took the thermos, warmth spreading from her fingers all the way to her chest.

A sip of tea, and the pain in her abdomen eased just a little.

She set the cup aside and looked at Sammie, her voice faint and breathless with discomfort. “Can you lean the seat back a bit for me? And… rub my stomach?”

Sammie hesitated.

“That’s not really—” He faltered, awkward. “There are boundaries between men and women…”

Rebecca’s gaze sharpened. “Are you ignoring me now, too?”

He pressed his lips together.

His hand continued its steady rhythm, but suddenly, Rebecca’s fingers closed around his wrist—cool to the touch, but surprisingly strong, stopping him mid-motion.

Before he could react, she pushed herself upright, moving closer, the gap between them vanishing in an instant.

Her hair brushed his cheek, carrying a faint hint of gardenia, blending with the warmth of the tea and filling the small space between them.

Sammie froze, barely daring to breathe.

He looked down, seeing her lashes tremble, the corners of her eyes tinged red from pain.

Her face was just inches from his, the warmth of her breath brushing his jaw, sending his heart into a wild, uneven rhythm.

“Sammie,” she whispered, voice thin and still fragile, but it struck some chord deep inside him. “Don’t you have anything you want to say to me?”