Page 115 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

“She was your fiancée. Your future wife. What was I supposed to think? I had no proof. It was my word against hers.”

He absorbs the blow without protesting.

“I failed you,” he says quietly, almost like a confession, “if I ever made you believe our love was replaceable. Interchangeable.”

Then his eyes lock onto mine.

“That won’t happen again. I will never again give you a reason to doubt us. One day, you’ll understand that I’d move heaven and earth for you.”

When bedtime finally comes, neither of us knows how to behave anymore.

In the end, I mumble a shy goodnight before slipping into my room.

Once I’ve changed into pajamas, I crawl into bed. But my mind is somewhere else.

With him.

This distance between us is becoming unbearable.

I toss and turn again and again. Impossible to sleep.

After half an hour, I give in.

I throw back the covers, sit up, and leave my room.

The hallway is silent.

I stop in front of his door, my hand hovering in midair.

Part of me is screaming to turn around. The other part only wants to curl up against him.

What if he’s asleep?

What if I destroy this fragile balance between us?

I close my eyes.

The truth is simple.

I need him. His presence.

And we’ve already lost too much time.

I knock softly.

The room is drowned in darkness. Moonlight slips through the curtains, drawing a pale line across the floor.

He’s lying on his back, eyes open.

His eyes lock onto mine with that calm intensity that disarms me every single time.

He says nothing. Neither do I.

I walk toward him slowly and stop beside the bed.

Our eyes lock.

I missed him in a way that was almost unbearable. But I need to be clear about what I want.