Chapter overview: Chapter 1585 from No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor)
In this standout chapter of the Romance novel No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor), Harper Laine introduces new challenges, powerful emotions, and major plot progress that captivate readers from beginning to end.
Eleanor had no choice but to brace his heavy weight and help him slowly make his way to the master bedroom. Ian sat on the edge of the mattress before lying on his side, turning to face her. "Could you stay?" he asked, his voice rough with exhaustion.
Eleanor nodded. "Okay, I'm not going anywhere. Go to sleep."
Only then did Ian close his eyes. Between the relentless toll of arranging the funeral and the draining physical exhaustion of his high fever, he was truly running on fumes. Within moments, his breathing deepened and steadied, though his brow remained slightly furrowed, as if an unspoken anxiety plagued his dreams.
Eleanor took a seat in the armchair by the window. Resting her chin in her hand, she stared at the sleeping man, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions crashing over her.
Outside, the rain continued to fall in a steady, rhythmic drizzle, perfectly mirroring the chaotic state of her mind.
Magdalen's dying wish, coupled with the words from Shaun's wife, only cemented what she already knew she had to do.
So many things in life were just fleeting obsessions. Ian might care for her, perhaps clinging to the shared history they had, but she refused to believe he couldn't live without her.
As she was lost in thought, the man on the bed suddenly let out a muffled groan, thrashing slightly as if caught in a nightmare. A fine sheen of sweat broke out across his forehead.
Eleanor got up, went into the bathroom, and returned with a warm, damp washcloth to gently dab his forehead.
Suddenly, Ian's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. She looked down, realizing he wasn't awake; he had just reached out blindly in his sleep.
She didn't pull away, letting him hold on so as not to wake him.
It wasn't until he drifted back into a deeper sleep and naturally loosened his grip that Eleanor returned to the chair. She stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the rain-soaked lawn.
After standing there for a while, she turned back and carefully checked his temperature again. It had dropped to a low-grade fever.



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