His Tender Lies

My heart ached as I looked at the house that I had bought using all my savings.

Francis Slade had promised he would marry me after I bought it. I had emptied all my savings just to make the down payment.

But now, this house had become their love nest.

The loving voices coming from inside left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Holding my empty stomach, I wanted to confront them, but was hit by a wave of dizziness and collapsed onto the floor.

When I looked up again, I saw Francis standing over me with a frown and wrapped in a bath towel.

"Aren't you supposed to be working? What happened to you?"

He seemed upset, presumably because I interrupted his fun.

"I…"

"A-choo!"

Before I could speak, I was cut off by someone sneezing in the bathroom.

The displeasure on his face was instantly replaced by a concerned expression. He instantly turned around and went back into the bathroom.

I was left there with my mouth agape. As always, he couldn't even bother to hear my explanation.

My injuries were nothing in his eyes compared to the tiny sneeze from the woman in the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he emerged with Whitney Jones in his arms while I was completely brushed aside.

It was Whitney who broke the silence. "Ms. Lane, you look like you were rolling around in a mud pit. What happened to you?"

My body trembled with anger when I saw her smug expression.

Forcing myself to remain calm, I answered, "This is my home. What are you doing here?"

In response, Francis glared at me angrily.

"Whitney caught a cold, so I invited her over to take a hot shower. Can't you even tolerate such small acts of kindness?"

Hearing this, Whitney made a sorry expression and got down from his arms.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Lane. I'll leave now if that is your wish."

Right as she touched the ground, she squealed, "Ah, what's this?!"

She had accidentally stepped on blood that was flowing from my leg.

Whitney instinctively grabbed Francis out of fear. With a trembling voice, she told him, "Francis, I think she's injured. Why don't you send her to the hospital? Don't worry about me."

"It's fine, she's doing this on purpose to get my attention," he replied.

The moment he rolled his eyes, I knew Francis thought I was just trying to gain his sympathy again.

"Alright now, Whitney will be sleeping in your room tonight. Once you're done with the act, go clean yourself up and set up a bed for her."

My wound was still throbbing with pain, but in Francis' eyes, only Whitney mattered.

After thinking everything through, I replied calmly, "Alright."

Sensing I was unusually calm, Francis gave me a look of doubt. However, he was quickly distracted when Whitney called for him.

I watched as he left to check on her. This time, I made up my mind.

If she was after my room, she could have it.

If she was after the man who never loved me, she could have him.

I haven't had anything to eat the entire day. While making her bed, I felt dizzy again.

While moving around, I accidentally tore my wound open again.

The sudden jolt of pain made me sober up. I glanced down and saw fresh blood seeping out and staining my clothes.

I endured the pain while looking for our first aid kit. I had just started bandaging my wound when I heard Francis warning me, "Quiet down, will you? Whitney's fallen asleep."

That night, I slept on the sofa with my wound half-bandaged.

Just to fall asleep, I forced myself to swallow a mix of painkillers and sleeping pills.

Just as I was dozing off, I was woken up by Francis.

"Whitney's complaining that she's hungry. Go cook her some chicken soup. You know how to make it best, don't you?"

Of course. Francis had always faced stomach issues. I deliberately learned this recipe because it was easy on his stomach.