Page 41 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

“I’m going back to the lab tomorrow.”

The pain hits without warning.

I set my tablet aside and close my eyes, hoping it’ll pass.

“Migraine?” Stephen asks, already on his feet.

Before I can protest, he lifts me effortlessly from the couch with a gentleness completely at odds with his size and carries me upstairs.

Ever since what happened to me, I struggle with people getting too close.

But Stephen was there during my worst moments. Protecting my safety as much as my health.

My Saint Bernard.

I snort at the thought.

If he knew I compared him to a rescue dog, he’d probably kill me himself.

Completely unaware of my ridiculous thoughts, he hands me a glass of water and two pills.

I swallow them without argument before lying down.

Moments like this are when I miss Dante the most.

I’d give anything for him to be here.

Even though once this damn migraine faded, he’d probably drag me outside despite all my complaints.

When my parents died, Bianca cried with me. She kept repeating that things would eventually get better. That time healed everything.

Dante was different.

He never tried to find the perfect words. He was just there. Present.

Then, after a week, he forced me out of the apartment.

Every single day.

On rainy days, he’d take me to crowded cafés.

On sunny days, parks.

Sometimes I hated him for not letting me grieve in peace.

But eventually, I understood.

He refused to watch me disappear into my grief. Refused to let me lock myself away until there was nothing left of me.

And when the weight became too heavy…

When breathing itself felt impossible…

He simply held me against him.

Without speaking.

Without trying to fix anything.