So when Jordan sat down on the edge of the bed, I felt an instinctive flicker of resistance.
Then he unbuttoned his shirt.
The black fabric looked ready to split across his chest, the muscle underneath gleaming like warm honey in the dim lamplight.
A sculpted waistline, tight abs, powerful thighs. Every inch of him radiated the kind of raw masculinity that made your brain go quiet.
I'll admit it. I really am a sucker for good looks.
When Jordan's large, well-defined hand slid toward my waist, refusing him was the last thing on my mind.
His lips were a breath away from mine when the knock came.
Dominic's voice filtered through the door：“Irene, are you still awake?”
In that moment, I understood exactly how lethal a college crush could be.
Every trace of desire drained out of me in an instant.
I kicked Jordan off me, scrambled to the door, pulled it open, and softened my voice：“Dominic, what's wrong?”
Dominic's gaze dropped to the marks on my neck, and something dark flickered behind his eyes.
He kept his head low, knuckles white around the hem of his faded shirt, voice rough：“I had a nightmare. I keep dreaming about the day they broke my legs. I'm scared. Can you stay with me?”
“Of course!”
I didn't hesitate for a second.
I was about to leave with Dominic when Jordan's voice erupted behind me.
“Irene Pruitt, what the hell is this? You're agreeing to sleep in another man's room right in front of your husband?!”
Before I could fire back, the guest room door across the hall swung open.
Stella stepped out with red-rimmed eyes, pleading：“Jordan, will you stay with me tonight like you did before?”
Jordan's expression froze. He scrambled to explain, his voice stiff and hollow：“Irene, it's not what you think. Stella and I just……”
I didn't wait to hear the rest. I slammed the bedroom door shut and followed Dominic back to his room.
Whatever Jordan and Stella were to each other, I no longer had the energy to care.
He'd ignored me and dismissed me too many times. Even without Stella, there would have been someone else.
After that night, I stopped paying attention to anything Jordan did. Every ounce of my focus went to Dominic.
He was genuinely high-maintenance.
His laundry required a specific detergent or his skin would break out.
He was impossibly picky about food: nothing fishy, nothing spicy, no bell peppers, no carrots.
He refused to drink plain water.
He couldn't fall asleep at night unless someone was there with him.
Taking care of him was like raising a sensitive, finicky cat.
It left me no bandwidth for anything else.
Jordan didn't notice at first.
He paraded Stella around at friends' gatherings, got cozy with her right in front of me, and even said to my face：“Irene, you're just a housewife. You can't even compare to Stella.”
Not only did I not get jealous, on a good day I'd nod along：“You're right. Stella really is impressive at her job.”
That was when Jordan panicked.
I had never ignored him like this. Not once.
From the day I married him, he was the center of my world.
Something exciting happened, I'd text him. Found good food, I'd text him. Saw something funny, I'd text him.
But now he suddenly realized that in the past six months, my messages to him could be counted on one hand. Almost all of them were replies to his instructions: 【Mm-hm】, 【Okay】.
He wanted to catch me during my morning grocery run, find a moment when it was just the two of us, and actually talk.
When Jordan got there, he discovered the grocery store I always went to had shut down ages ago.
It hit him then, how long he'd been neglecting me.
He was wrong.
He should fix it.
He'd apologize to me properly.
He wanted to go grocery shopping with me tomorrow.
So for the first time, he skipped the office and came home instead.
He wanted to wait for me.
But when he pushed open the door, there were Dominic and Stella sitting on the couch.
