Chapter 5 - A Reason To Stay

Zack’s POV

“Are you happy with her?”

I stared at Cameron. For a few seconds, I didn't know what to say. Her question had caught me off guard, not because I had never asked myself the same thing, but because hearing it from her made something uncomfortable shift inside me.

Cameron waited, her eyes fixed on mine.

I glanced toward the hallway before looking back at her. “It's late.”

Her brows pulled together slightly. “Zack—”

“You're exhausted.” I kept my voice calm, but there was a firmness in it that told her I wasn't going to have this conversation tonight. “You've been travelling, you're in pain, and you need to rest. Whatever you're trying to ask me can wait until tomorrow.”

She studied me for another moment before lowering her gaze. “I only wanted to know.”

“And you'll know when I'm ready to talk about it.”

There was no anger in my voice, but I left no room for an argument.

“Okay.”

The quiet acceptance softened something in me. I stepped closer to her wheelchair. “Come on. You need to get some sleep.”

She gave me a small smile. “You're always telling people what to do.”

“Someone has to.”

A quiet laugh escaped her, and despite myself, I smiled.

For a moment, having her here felt strangely familiar. Easy. Like the years between us hadn't changed everything.

I crouched beside her. “Are you feeling any better?”

“A little.”

“Thats good.” I replied with a smile.

She glanced toward the hallway. “I should probably go.”

I nodded and stepped aside as her caregiver moved behind the wheelchair.

We had barely reached the hallway when Cameron suddenly turned her head.

“Wait.”

The caregiver stopped.

Cameron looked at me, then at him, a faint crease forming between her brows. “How come you don't know his name yet?”

I frowned. “His name?”

She gave me an amused look. “You've been calling him ‘the caregiver’ since I arrived.”

I glanced at the man standing behind her wheelchair. He looked to be in his early thirties, tall and neatly dressed, with a calm expression that rarely changed. He had been quiet throughout the evening, speaking only when necessary, and until that moment, I hadn't thought much about him beyond the fact that he seemed competent.

“I didn't think it mattered,” I admitted.

“Well, It does.”

The caregiver gave a polite smile. “Andrew.”

I nodded once. “Andrew.”

“It's nice to properly meet you, Mr. Hunter.”

“Zack is fine.”

Andrew dipped his head. “Of course.”

Cameron smiled. “See? That wasn't difficult.”

I gave her a look. “You should be sleeping, not correcting me.”

She laughed softly. “Goodnight, Zack.”

“Goodnight, Cam.”

Andrew began wheeling her toward the guest room. I watched them disappear down the hallway before turning away.

The house fell quiet again, and I found myself drifting back toward the dining room. Maybe it was the sight of the untouched dinner, the lingering smell of the food Quiana had prepared, or simply the fact that I needed something to occupy my mind.

The dining room looked exactly as it had when I came home. The table was still set for two, with two plates, two wine glasses, and a bottle of champagne that had barely been touched. The candles had burned almost completely down, their wax hardened around the holders.

I stopped.

Quiana had actually gone through all this trouble for our anniversary.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd celebrated anything with her.

My gaze landed on a small black box sitting beside my plate. I picked it up, turning it over in my hands before noticing the ribbon tied around it. There was no note attached.

I opened it.

A watch rested inside.

I stared at it for several seconds. It was expensive, elegant, exactly the kind of thing I would have chosen for myself. The craftsmanship was flawless.

Quiana knew my taste.

Of course she did.

She had spent years learning everything about me—my routines, my habits, the things I liked, the things I hated, the way I took my coffee, the meetings I never wanted interrupted, even the foods I refused to eat.

She knew all of it.

And somehow, that realization didn't warm me. It made me uncomfortable.

I closed the box and set it back on the table. For a moment, I didn't know what I was supposed to feel.

Guilt?

Gratitude?

Affection?

Nothing came.

My eyes moved to the chair opposite mine.

She had probably sat there waiting for me. A muscle in my jaw tightened.

I didn't like thinking about it. I especially didn't like the uncomfortable realization that she had put so much effort into something I hadn't even bothered to show up for.

But what could I give her?

An apology?

Would that change anything?

Would it erase the years between us?

No.

Our marriage had never been built on the kind of love she seemed to want from me. Maybe that was the truth I'd avoided because it was easier to blame circumstances than admit what I had done.

I pulled out the chair and sat down, my eyes fixed on the watch.

I remembered the day I married Quiana. I remembered how angry I'd been and how convinced I'd become that she deserved to suffer. She had taken something from me—Cameron, my future with her, the life I believed I was supposed to have—and Quiana had been standing at the center of everything that went wrong.

I had never forgotten that.

Maybe that was why I'd married her.

Not because I wanted a happy marriage. Or because I believed we were meant to be together. I had wanted her to understand what it felt like to live with the consequences of what she had done. I wanted her to know that she couldn't hurt Cameron and simply walk away from it.

So I married her.

After that, I made sure she never forgot why.

I kept my distance. I refused to give her the affection she wanted. Whenever she tried to get closer, I pulled away. Whenever she tried to make our marriage feel normal, I reminded her that it wasn't.

I'd told myself I was justified.

I'd told myself she deserved it.

And now?

Cameron was home.

The woman I had believed I'd lost forever was sleeping under the same roof, while the woman I had blamed for everything was upstairs, probably trying to sleep after the longest night of her life. I didn't care.

I looked back at the gift.

I didn't feel the way a husband should feel when his wife buys him something thoughtful. There was no excitement, no warmth, no sudden desire to run upstairs and thank her.

There was simply nothing.

That realization should have disturbed me.

Instead, it felt like confirmation.

I leaned back in the chair and exhaled slowly.

No.

I wasn't happy with Quiana.

I'd known that for a long time. I'd simply refused to admit it because acknowledging it meant accepting what our marriage really was.

A punishment.

A sentence I'd given her because I couldn't punish the past.

I'd married her because I wanted her to pay for what happened to Cameron. Because I believed she had taken away my chance to have a life with the woman I truly loved.

Cameron.

My fingers curled against the edge of the table.

She was finally home.

Maybe that meant I no longer needed this marriage.

The thought settled heavily in my mind.

I stood and picked up the watch again, turning it over once before placing it carefully back inside the box. Whatever Quiana had intended the gift to mean, I couldn't give her a feeling I didn't have.

I switched off the dining room light and walked toward the stairs.

When I reached the hallway outside our bedroom, I noticed the door was slightly open, a faint light spilling through the gap.

Quiana was still awake.

I could see her sitting at the edge of the bed with her back turned toward the door. She wasn't crying or doing anything in particular. She was simply staring down at her hands, lost in thought.

I remained at the doorway, watching her.

Then she lifted her head.

Our eyes met through the narrow opening.

Something shifted in her expression when she saw me, but she said nothing.

I should have walked in.

I should have said something about the gift.

Instead, I stood there with a thought I hadn't allowed myself to entertain until tonight.

Cameron was home.

The woman I'd been waiting for was finally back.

And Quiana was no longer the only reason I had to remain trapped in a marriage built on resentment.

Quiana looked away first.

I stepped back from the doorway.

For years, I'd believed my marriage to her was the price she had to pay for what she did to Cameron. Now that Cameron was home, that justification no longer felt as solid as it once had.

I had finally gotten the woman I'd been waiting for.

And suddenly, I knew exactly what I needed to decide.

How soon would I let my wife go?

*****

Author's note:

Oh well! you know that saying that says "when a man hates you, he marries you?". pheeew! feel free to counter me guys but in all, let's get on this journey.....together!