The Villainess Needs a Hug (Ivy Windsor) novel Chapter 236

Chapter 236

Now, for the first time, he found himself wanting something different.

He wanted to protect and cherish the woman before him.

He wanted to treat her like something precious, someone to cradle gently, to hold close and never let go.

He wanted to shower her with so much love that she’d forget the shadows in her heart, that the nightmares lurking in her memory would finally fade.

After a long while, Jamison finally stood, tearing his gaze away from her. He quietly gathered the dishes, careful not to disturb her peace.

By five in the evening, darkness had already swallowed the world outside. The thunder had mostly faded, but the rain still poured relentlessly.

The news droned on in the background, reporting that two straight days of heavy rain had left the city’s main roads flooded and impassable.

Jamison frowned, a crease forming between his brows. Going home tonight might be impossible.

He headed upstairs, wanting to check if Ivy had woken up.

But when he cracked open the door, he saw her just as she’d been before–curled on her side, tucked tightly into herself, seemingly untouched by time.

Something was different, though. Her body trembled ever so slightly, and her lips moved in a stream of soft, unintelligible murmurs.

Jamison’s face tightened in concern. He hurried to her side, worried that pain had woken her again, and leaned in to check.

“Ivy? Ivy?”

She didn’t wake.

Instead, she was trapped in a nightmare, her mind dragged back to the horrors of the past three years.

In her dream, it was the dead of winter.

She was still locked in that filthy, crumbling shed, the musty straw beneath her the only thing passing for a bed, a few threadbare blankets her only shield against the cold.

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She shivered, teeth chattering, and the words she repeated most every day were always the same-“Cold, so cold…”

Jamison called her name repeatedly, but when she didn’t open her eyes, he realized she was dreaming.

“Cold, so cold-” Ivy’s eyes remained shut, but her eyelids fluttered restlessly, and her voice came in a broken whisper.

“What? Ivy… what are you saying? Cold?” Jamison leaned in, trying to catch her words. Realizing she was shivering, he glanced at her.

It wasn’t warm, but the room’s heater was set to a comfortable seventy–two, and she was tucked under a cozy blanket. She should’ve felt fine.

So why was she cold?

Jamison was puzzled, but when she kept whispering “cold,” he hesitated only a moment, his throat tightening.

“Ivy?”

He called her name once more, and when he was sure she was still deeply asleep, he mustered his courage and climbed onto the bed, gently gathering her–blanket

and all–into his arms.

“You’re not cold anymore… just sleep,” he whispered, settling his head on the pillow beside her, his voice soft and soothing.

Ivy didn’t respond. Though her body still trembled on occasion, wrapped in his embrace, the shivers gradually lessened.

Jamison held his breath, catching the faint scent of her hair, and for a moment, he felt like he was lying in a sunlit garden, surrounded by the gentle rustle of grass and the distant song of birds.

The weight of the day melted from his shoulders. He closed his eyes, let out a long, quiet sigh, and decided to drift off beside her, just for a little while.

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