Hold My Tear, I’m Getting My Wife Back!

Leanne had always been the reserved type who kept her cards close to her chest, let alone wear her heart on her sleeve.

So, whenever she did open up, it was like she had a direct line to Curtis' heart, sending tremors through him with the slightest whisper of affection.

He gripped her by the nape of the neck, his kiss fierce, almost savage, as he ground against her lips, breaking past her defenses, stirring her breaths into a frenzy.

Leanne held his shoulders, her blouse undone, not by fingers but by the teeth. Curtis lifted her, her skirt fanning over her perch, revealing her pale, delicate legs on either side.

Summer was in full bloom in the yard, with hydrangeas bursting in pink and white, their living room awash with her ragged breaths and soft, kitten-like mewls.

Like a ship steadied by the big guy and sure hands of a sailor in the tempest, they navigated the storm together.

With her head tilted back, a flush spread under her skin, Curtis watched over her, his gaze darker than the night sky.

He trailed kisses down her elegant neck, his touch slippery as milk, his emotions a flood threatening to breach its banks. His voice was hoarse, caught in the absurd beauty of the moment, coaxing, "Baby, will you always love me like this?" Leanne's eyes, hazy with emotion, focused as she replied, "Yes."

Curtis lived with the constant regret of those lost for two and a half years, but that very misstep taught him what he couldn't stand to lose. "That's so good," he whispered, holding Leanne close, his love for her pulsing through his veins, "Baby, you're my world, now and forever."

Warmth surged in Leanne's chest, tears welling in her eyes as she clung to Curtis.

From the living room to the bedroom, dawn approached as the storm quieted to a whisper.

Waking up exhausted, Leanne silenced her alarm and buried her face in her pillow, slipping back into sleep.

Ever considerate, Curtis tried waking her, but she lazily resisted until he playfully pinched her nose. When gasping for air, Leanne instinctively opened her mouth, pushing him away with a muffled, "What are you doing?"

"You're going to be late for work, Dr. Castillo," Curtis teased, pressing a kiss to her lips and relenting. "Go back to sleep. I'll call in sick for you."

The words "Dr. Castillo" reignited Leanne's professional dedication, pushing past her lethargy.

She had two surgeries today.

As she got ready, noticing a mark on her neck, she dabbed at it with concealer, finally opting for a turtleneck sweater to cover it.

Arriving at the hospital, Donna teased, "Wearing a turtleneck in this heat? Aren't you boiling?"

"I run cold," Leanne bluffed.

"Only your torso gets cold, but your arms don't?" Donna quipped.

Leanne retorted, "The arms belong to someone else."

"You wouldn't understand, Donna, it's fashion," Amy interrupted, snapping a photo, "That top is gorgeous. Got a link? And the pants, too."

After a morning rush, Amy and Donna invited Leanne for a sandwich, but she declined.

"I'm not hungry. You guys go ahead."

While alone in her office, Leanne pulled a notebook from her bag and flipped it open.

The notes inside were scattered and chaotic, the handwriting that of a seasoned detective, wild and unrestrained. Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Leanne pieced together the fragmented information, trying to make sense of the clues before her.

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