Chapter 1 Waiting for a Husband Who Never Left
My husband was supposed to be in mandatory quarantine for seven days after returning from a dengue outbreak zone overseas. At least, that was what he told me.
I spent half the night packing a suitcase for him, stuffing in clean shirts, lounge pants, his razor, even the brand of coffee packets he liked drinking before bed. By the time I arrived at the quarantine hotel, the city streets were nearly empty, washed pale beneath the midnight lights.
The staff member at the front desk checked the registration list once, then a second time. By the third time, even she looked confused.
"Sorry, ma'am," she said carefully, glancing up at me. "There's no reservation under Julian Ashford. He never checked in for quarantine."
My thoughts stalled for a second. Then I instinctively reached for my phone, ready to call him and ask what was going on, but before the screen even lit up, movement across the street caught my attention.
A black Porsche had just stopped outside another hotel. The driver's door opened first.
Julian stepped out in a dark coat, looking exactly the way he always did after returning from a trip, calm, polished, impossible to read. Then he walked around the car and opened the passenger door himself.
A young woman slipped out into his arms. He lowered his head and kissed her without hesitation.
It wasn't a casual kiss or a moment of impulse. It was intimate and practiced, like they had done this countless times before.
The woman laughed softly and pushed against his chest as though embarrassed, but Julian only tightened his grip around her waist and kissed her even deeper.
My entire body went cold when I recognized her. Bianca Laurent, the girl Julian had practically raised himself.
The same woman he had sworn he would never see again after personally sending her overseas three years ago.
My stomach dropped so suddenly I nearly lost my balance.
Then my phone vibrated in my hand and a new message popped onto the screen.
Julian: Baby, wait for me at home.
Attached beneath the message was a photo of a king-sized hotel bed with rumpled sheets and dim golden lighting.
I stared at the photo for a long moment, then let out a bitter laugh.
Home? What home did we even have left now?
After a long moment, I crossed the street and walked into the hotel after them. The only sound in the lobby was the soft piano music overhead.
I stopped at the front desk.
"The couple who just came in," I asked as steadily as I could, "what room are they staying in?"
The receptionist immediately looked guarded.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. We can't disclose guest information."
I simply nodded. Instead, I walked over to the waiting area and sat down by the window. Outside, rain slid down the glass beneath the city lights.
Then I opened my phone and messaged Julian's assistant.
Claire: Didn't Julian just return from overseas? Why isn't he quarantining?
The reply came back immediately, almost frantic.
Assistant: Claire... Mr. Ashford hasn't been abroad recently. He's been in the country this whole time.
I stared at the screen, barely processing the words. My fingers tightened around the phone.
Claire: I just saw him with Bianca.
This time, the other side stayed silent for several long seconds. Then the messages began flooding in one after another.
Assistant: Claire, there are some things I've wanted to tell you for years. Almost every business trip Mr. Ashford took overseas was actually to see Bianca.
Assistant: She came back a week ago, and he's been with her every day since then.
Assistant: The quarantine excuse was only because he wanted more time with her.
I lowered my eyes slowly, staring at the conversation thread while a numb ache spread through my chest.
So this had been the truth all along. For the past three years, every monthly "business trip," every delayed flight, every overseas meeting, every carefully prepared excuse had all been for one person, Bianca.
While I stayed home believing I was his wife, he had been crossing oceans for her.
My phone vibrated again a second later, another message flashing across the screen.
Assistant: Claire, I'm sorry. I really thought Mr. Ashford would eventually let her go because of how much he cared about you.
Let her go? The moment I saw those words, I was suddenly back in that hospital room three years ago.
Three years ago, Julian had been lying in a hospital bed with bandages wrapped around his wrist. His face had been pale, his eyes bloodshot from exhaustion. He held my hand tightly, like he was afraid I'd leave the second he let go.
"Claire," he had whispered hoarsely, "I don't love her. I already sent her away."
"I'll never see her again. I swear it. Please believe me."
Back then, I really had believed him.
I locked my phone and sat there quietly while the world around me faded into a dull, distant blur.
A moment later, the elevator doors slid open nearby, pulling me back to reality.
Julian walked out first with Bianca tucked against his side, his arm wrapped around her waist as they headed toward the convenience store inside the hotel.
Almost immediately, I lowered my cap and pulled my mask higher over my face.
Bianca sounded soft and spoiled when she spoke.
"This is all your fault. We were halfway undressed before realizing there weren't any condoms left. I told you we could forget about it tonight, but you insisted on coming downstairs."
Julian laughed quietly under his breath. It was relaxed and affectionate, a tone I hadn't heard from him in years.
He pulled her closer against him and kissed her hair.
"No," he said softly. "What if you got pregnant?"
After a pause, his tone turned gentler. "I'd never let you go through that."
I suddenly remembered the first time Julian and I slept together three years ago, he had kissed me until I could barely breathe. I still remembered the way his eyes looked in the dim apartment lighting, the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the room.
I had been nervous back then, pressing both hands against his chest while trying to stop him. "What if I get pregnant?"
Instead of panicking, he had only laughed softly and kissed the corner of my mouth again.
"Then we'll keep the baby," he whispered. "I'll marry you anyway, so what's there to be scared of?"
Back then, I believed it meant he truly loved me.
But now, standing in the lobby of a hotel while watching him hold another woman in his arms, watching him with Bianca made me understand the difference.
When Julian spoke to Bianca about pregnancy, there was no helpless compromise in his voice. He wasn't talking out of responsibility; he genuinely cared about her.
Bianca leaned lazily against him, smiling as she traced circles over his chest with her fingertip. "Your wife seriously hasn't suspected anything? You vanished for an entire week."
Julian sounded almost entertained by the question. "Claire never doubts me. I told her I was quarantining after an overseas trip, and she believed it immediately. Right now she's probably still waiting at home for me to come back."
Bianca burst into laughter, looking up at him with open admiration. "You're horrible, Uncle Julian. You've had her fooled this whole time."
Instead of denying it, Julian reached over and pinched her chin affectionately. I couldn't remember the last time he looked at me like that.
"Even if she finds out and causes trouble, I'm not sending you away again," he said quietly. "I've had enough of being apart from you."
Tears slipped down my face beneath the mask after hearing this.
A few moments later, they finished buying what they needed and headed back toward the elevators together. Bianca's perfume lingered in the air as they passed me, sweet and expensive, while Julian kept his arm wrapped naturally around her waist. Neither of them spared me a second glance.
The elevator doors slowly closed behind them. The moment they were gone, all my strength disappeared with them. I crouched down beside the wall and buried my face against my knees, trembling so hard I could barely breathe.
Then my phone lit up again. It was another message from Julian.
Julian: Bad signal at the hotel. I'll talk to you later. Go to bed early. Love you.
I stared at the message for a long moment, then laughed bitterly. A tear landed on the screen, blurring the word love.
