I wandered home in a daze, the night wind biting through my clothes.
By the time I returned, it was already past midnight.
I had assumed Noah wouldn’t be coming home tonight, but to my surprise, he was at the villa.
He was holding his phone, about to call me.
When he saw me step through the door, his panicked expression softened with visible relief.
“Darling, where have you been this late at night? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
With practiced gentleness, Noah took my coat and scarf and hung them carefully on the rack.
He had always been considerate.
Ever since my health had declined, he’d forbidden me from lifting a finger, hiring chefs to ensure I never cooked for more than the strict weekly limit he’d imposed.
But when he spotted the lunchbox still in my hand, his composure cracked.
“Why are you still holding your lunchbox?”
I let out a soft laugh and placed it in his hands.
“I was going to bring it to you, but by the time I got to your office, everything was already closed, so I came back.”
He let out a visible sigh of relief, his tense body finally relaxed.
He pulled me into a tight embrace, resting his head on my shoulder with a look of deep devotion.
“You’re too good to me, Darling. Even this late, you were still thinking of me.”
He opened the lunchbox. It was filled with all his favorite dishes.
Noah’s eyes turned red.
He didn’t care that the food had gone cold and dug in, devouring it in large, eager bites.
I plucked a single hair from my shoulder - one he'd just shed - and couldn't stop myself from saying, "It's gone cold. Don't eat it like that, you know your stomach can't handle it. At least heat it up first."
But Noah had already eaten more than half the meal in a frenzy.
“It’s fine. Even if the food you made had gone bad, I’d still eat every bite,” he said, without pause.
I said nothing more.
I turned and headed for the bedroom.
On the coffee table nearby, a hairpin caught my eye.
I knew that hairpin well.
I had just seen it earlier that night, tucked into Jill’s styled hair.
At that moment, Noah rushed over, his face full of guilt.
“Work’s been overwhelming lately. I haven’t had time for you. This was meant to be a gift. Once this busy period is over, I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
When we got married, Noah promised he’d always make time for dinner with me, no matter how busy he got.
But now that I thought about it, we hadn’t had dinner together in nearly a week.
Still, I didn’t confront him.
I picked up the hairpin and examined the scratches on its surface.
“It has marks on it. Looks like someone’s already used it.”
Noah didn’t even flinch.
He met my eyes with unwavering confidence.
"Must have been damaged when I bought it," he said smoothly, plucking the hairpin from my fingers with practiced ease.
"My wife doesn’t deserve scratched jewelry. I'll get you something new tomorrow."
I smiled silently.
I watched as he pocketed the evidence, the subtle release of tension in his shoulders betraying his relief.
After washing up, I lay down in bed.
It hadn’t been long before Noah joined me.
He leaned in, his breath warm against my neck.
One of his hands slowly slipped beneath the hem of my nightgown, but I had no interest in this charade.
The thought that he’d just come from another woman made my stomach churn.
“Don’t,” I said flatly. “Noah, I’m tired tonight.
“And besides, with this body of mine, I could never satisfy you—not the way you want.”
It was meant to be a simple test of words.
But it left him visibly shaken.
His eyes darted around, his voice uncertain.
“What are you talking about, Darling? Why would you say that?”
I suddenly felt drained, so I closed my eyes and said nothing more.
Moments later, I sneezed several times, my face flushed with a strange heat, my forehead burning.
Noah, who had been quietly watching me, immediately panicked.
He scrambled to get dressed, then scooped me into his arms and rushed to the hospital.
By the time I regained consciousness, I was already lying in a hospital bed.
Noah held my hand, his palm brushing my forehead every few moments, checking for a fever.
When he saw my eyes flutter open, his voice trembled with emotion.
“You’re finally awake, darling. You scared me to death.”
How could a man who looked at me with such tenderness still choose to betray me?
