Chapter 23 : Adrain
1356 Words
People often talked about grand gestures as though they were the foundation of love.I disagreed.
Love lived in ordinary Tuesdays.In remembering Jude preferred honey instead of sugar in his tea.
In quietly replacing his favourite pen after he lost it at the hospital.
In checking the weather every morning because I knew he’d forget an umbrella if it looked sunny when he left the house.
It had been nearly three months since the worst argument of our relationship.
Three months of learning.
Listening.
Growing.
I’d discovered something important.
Jealousy wasn’t the enemy.
Silence was.
Whenever something unsettled me now, I told him.
Whenever Jude felt anxious, he told me.
No accusations.
No assumptions.
Just honesty.
It wasn’t always easy.
But every difficult conversation ended with us understanding each other a little more.
And every day, I found myself falling even harder for my husband.
⸻
At exactly three o’clock, I sent him a message.
Dress nicely tonight.
His reply arrived less than a minute later.
…That sounds suspicious.
I smiled.
Trust me.
Should I be worried?
Only if you planned on wearing hospital scrubs to dinner.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Fine. But if this is another one of your “small surprises” that somehow involves half of London, I’m going home.
I laughed out loud in the middle of my office.
He knew me too well.
⸻
An hour later, my assistant knocked gently.
“The deliveries have arrived, sir.”
“Perfect.”
There were several carefully wrapped boxes.
One contained a midnight-blue tailored jacket.
Another, a silver watch I’d spent weeks searching for because Jude had admired one months ago but refused to let me buy it.
There was a pair of polished Italian shoes.
A silk pocket square.
A handwritten note.
You’d look beautiful wearing absolutely anything.
But indulge me tonight.
— Adrian
I smiled to myself.
He would probably roll his eyes.
Then secretly keep the note forever.
⸻
When I arrived home, Jude was standing at the foot of the staircase.
For a long moment…
I simply stared.
He’d chosen the jacket.
The watch rested elegantly around his wrist.
His hair had been pushed back neatly, revealing those expressive eyes I’d loved from the very beginning.
He looked… breathtaking.
Again.
Always.
“You’re staring,” he said, trying—and failing—to hide his smile.
“I know.”
“You’ve done this before.”
“I’ll do it again tomorrow.”
His cheeks warmed.
“You spoil me.”
“I’ve barely started.”
He laughed softly.
“You say that every time.”
“And every time I’m right.”
I crossed the room and adjusted the collar of his jacket by a fraction.
“There.”
“It wasn’t crooked.”
“It offended me.”
“It offended you?”
“It did.”
He shook his head fondly.
“I’ve accepted that you’re impossible.”
“You still love me.”
“I really do.”
God…
I hoped he never stopped saying that.
⸻
The restaurant overlooked the river.
Soft piano music floated through the air.
Candles flickered across crisp white tablecloths.
The scent of garlic, rosemary and freshly baked bread lingered warmly in the room.
Jude looked around in quiet amazement.
“You booked the private terrace?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“A while ago.”
“For… tonight?”
“I wanted an evening where no one needed anything from us.”
“No phones.”
“No meetings.”
“No hospital pages.”
“No board members.”
“Just us.”
His smile alone was worth every reservation.
⸻
Dinner was effortless.
We shared burrata and heirloom tomatoes.
He insisted I try his truffle risotto.
I stole three bites before he realised.
“You said one bite.”
“I underestimated how good it was.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m charming.”
“You’re a food thief.”
“A charming food thief.”
By the time our main courses arrived, we’d laughed so much my face actually hurt.
Jude reached across the table, quietly brushing a crumb from my sleeve.
“There.”
“What?”
“You had bread.”
“I was saving it.”
“For later?”
“You never know.”
He laughed so hard he nearly dropped his fork.
That sound…
It still made every difficult day worthwhile.
⸻
As the evening settled, dessert arrived.
Chocolate mousse for him.
Espresso panna cotta for me.
The city lights reflected across the river beyond the terrace.
Everything felt…
Peaceful.
Exactly the kind of peace we’d fought so hard to rebuild.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jude said.
“That’s dangerous.”
“It usually is.”
He smiled.
“I’m happy.”
I looked at him carefully.
“I know.”
“No…”
His fingers found mine across the table.
“I mean really happy.”
“So am I.”
His thumb brushed gently over my knuckles.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For never giving up on us.”
Emotion tightened unexpectedly in my chest.
“There was never another option.”
⸻
Then—
Someone stopped beside our table.
“Jude?”
My heart sank before I even looked up.
Jude’s expression shifted into polite surprise.
“Oh.”
He stood.
“Good evening.”
I recognised him immediately.
Damian.
The neurologist.
The same man from the gala.
The same face I’d spent months teaching myself not to resent.
He smiled warmly.
“What are the chances?”
“Apparently quite high,” Jude answered politely.
“I didn’t know you liked this place.”
“It’s our first time here.”
Damian nodded.
“It’s one of my favourites.”
His eyes drifted toward me.
“You must be Adrian.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I stood as well.
Extending my hand.
“Adrian.”
He shook it firmly.
“It’s good to finally meet you.”
Finally?
Finally?
The single word lodged itself in my mind.
Finally implied…
Previous conversations.
Mentions.
How often had they spoken?
No.
Stop.
Don’t do this again.
Jude noticed the slight change in my expression immediately.
His hand found my wrist beneath the table.
A silent reminder.
Breathe.
Communicate.
Trust.
I breathed slowly.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” I replied evenly.
Damian smiled.
“I won’t interrupt your evening.”
He looked back at Jude.
“We’ll see each other Monday.”
Monday?
My eyes moved instinctively to Jude.
Monday?
Jude’s smile faltered.
“Yes…”
“I’ll see you then.”
Damian nodded politely before disappearing back toward another table.
Silence settled.
Not uncomfortable.
Not yet.
Jude slowly withdrew his hand.
“I…”
He looked nervous.
“I meant to tell you.”
The words landed like stones.
Meant to tell me.
A cold sensation spread through my chest.
“What?”
“He’s working at the hospital now.”
I stared at him.
“…Since when?”
His eyes lowered.
“A few weeks.”
A few weeks.
The restaurant suddenly felt much smaller.
The candle between us flickered gently, completely unaware that the perfect evening had just fractured.
I wasn’t angry because Damian existed.
I wasn’t even angry that they worked in the same hospital.
I was angry because the first time I was hearing about it…
Was from Damian.
Not Jude.
I closed my eyes for one slow breath.
Then another.
Across the table, Jude looked as though every terrible memory from months ago had returned all at once.
Fear.
Uncertainty.
Hope that I wouldn’t become that version of myself again.
I reached for his hand before my thoughts could race any further.
His fingers trembled as they met mine.
“I need you to explain,” I said quietly.
“I promise I’ll listen.”
His eyes widened.
Not because I was angry.
Because this time…
I was choosing us before my pride.
Even though, somewhere deep inside me, the old possessive voice had begun whispering once again.
- Writer
