Book Chapter4
Book4Chapter4
I looked at him, my heart a tangled mess of emotions. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to go back to the way things were. But some wounds are too deep to heal.
“Okay,” I said softly.
John’s face lit up with hope. He pulled me close, burying his face in my hair. But as he held me, I felt a coldness spread through me, a sense of detachment that I knew
would never go away.
The trust was broken, and no amount of apologies could fix that.
John tried to make amends. He was attentive, showering me with gifts and affection. He even started cooking me breakfast, a stark contrast to the distant, workaholic husband he’d become. It was almost like old times, back when we were young and struggling to build a life together.
Chloe, now demoted and ostracized, kept a low profile at work. Her days were numbered, and we both knew it.
Just when I thought things were settling into a fragile peace, John dropped a bombshell. He had to go to Paris for work. With Chloe..
Apparently, she was instrumental to the project, and there was no time to replace her. As I dropped him off at the airport, he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Come with me,” he pleaded, his grip on my hand tight. “Please, Amelia. You can supervise me, I won’t even look at her.”
The fact that he thought I needed to supervise him spoke volumes.
“And if I don’t go? Will you run back into her arms?”
Brar
Book Chapter4
He panicked, shaking his head vehemently
“No! Of course not! It’s just… please, Amella, For us?”
I watched as he walked through security, his shoulders slumped with guilt. Chloe, struggling with her suitcase, tried to catch up to him. He flinched, putting distance between them. She followed his gaze, her eyes meeting mine.
A surge of satisfaction coursed through me as I saw the anger and jealousy in her
eyes.
Let her have her little victory. John would come crawling back to me eventually.
He always did.
Except this time, he didn’t.
Two weeks later, John returned from Paris.
I waited for him at the baggage claim, a pit of dread forming in my stomach. When he finally emerged, he looked like a ghost of his former self- haggard, unshaven, and utterly defeated. Chloe wasn’t far behind, her eyes gleaming with triumph.
“We need to talk,” John said, his voice devoid of emotion.
We sat in our living room, the silence deafening. Chloe, however, seemed perfectly at ease, her eyes darting between John and me with a smug smile playing on her lips.
“There’s nothing to talk about, Amelia,” she said, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “You had your chance, but you couldn’t give him what he wanted.” She placed a hand on her stomach, her voice laced with smugness. “Looks like I’m the one carrying his heir now.”
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