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Chapter 71: Concealing The Stone
publish date:
2026-10-11 18:26:45
Latest chapter
My Statue Husband Chapter 74: Researching The Legend
POV: VivianThe smell of old parchment and damp stone always made the central university library feel like a tomb. High up in the basement archives, away from the hum of modern campus life, the fluorescent lights buzzed with a low, sickening hum that made the skin behind my eyes throb.My finals were over, but there was no sense of relief. No celebration. The degree I had spent four years bleeding for felt completely hollow sitting in my tote bag. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was that tiny, cold fragment of grey stone I had found on the kitchen floor—and the unmistakable smear of fresh blood sticking to its edge.Stan was dying. Or worse, he was turning back into the cold, silent statue I had dragged out of the mud months ago.I pulled my wool cardigan tighter around my shoulders, shuddering against the chill of the archive vault. Spreading my hands across the heavy oak table, I stared at the mountain of dusty, leather-bound volumes surrounding me. Forgotten Civilizati
My Statue Husband Chapter 73:A Race Against Two Clock
POV: VivianThe digital timer on my cutting table hummed with a quiet, high-pitched buzz that sounded like a dying wasp. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours.To anyone else in the design studio, seven days was the final stretch before the Grand Expo—the ultimate deadline to finish hand-stitching forty yards of silver silk, hand-beading two dozen illusion gowns, and securing the investors who could save my fashion house from complete bankruptcy.But as I stood in the dim light of the back workshop, holding a pair of heavy iron shears, I wasn't looking at my sketches. I was staring at the heavy wool blanket draping Stan’s broad shoulders where he sat on the edge of the cutting couch.He wasn't moving. He hadn't moved in twenty minutes."Stan?" I called out, my voice barely stronger than a whisper.Slowly—agonizingly slowly—his head turned toward me. The movement carried a dull, hollow friction, like two ungreased gears grinding together in an abandoned factory."I am here, Viv
My Statue Husband Chapter 72: The Discovery
POV: VivianThe hum of the washer in our tiny laundry alcove had a steady, rhythmic cadence that usually helped me untangle my thoughts. But tonight, nothing could calm the storm brewing inside my chest. Three days. Three excruciating days stood between me and my final exams. Everything I had sacrificed—the endless late nights, the cold dinners, the soul-crushing weight of loan notices— hinged on keeping my head clear. Yet all I could think about was Stan. He had been slipping away from me in plain sight. First it was the long sleeves in the humid July heat, then the sudden stiffness whenever I reached out to hold his hand. And tonight, wearing heavy leather gloves at the kitchen table while drinking burnt coffee, lying to my face with that gentle, crooked smile. He thought he was protecting me. He thought if he carried whatever burden he had alone, I wouldn't stumble at the finish line. "Stubborn idiot," I whispered to myself, pulling a fresh, dry gray shirt from the laundry
My Statue Husband Chapter 71: Concealing The Stone
POV: VivianThe smell of burnt coffee always meant one of two things: either Stan was attempting to act like a normal human being who didn't work eighteen-hour shifts, or he was desperately trying to hide something.I didn't turn around when the kitchen chair scraped against the worn linoleum. I kept my eyes locked on page 412 of my Advanced Neurological Pathophysiology textbook, the yellow highlighter bleeding through the thin paper. My final board exams were three days away. Three days away from securing the clinical fellowship that would finally pull us out of this basement apartment where the pipes clanked like dying machinery every time the landlord took a shower upstairs."You're going to burn a hole through that page, Vivian," Stan said. His voice was low and gravelly, carrying that warm, quiet, familiar cadence that usually settled my racing heart.Usually."I have to memorize the entire cranial nerve pathway by midnight," I muttered, dragging my thumb along the rough edge of
My Statue Husband Chapter 70: Prince of Magic
Vivian's POVI could feel the cold radiating off him before my fingers even grazed his sleeve.It was a deep, subterranean chill—the kind that belonged in dark caverns or ancient burial vaults, not in my sunlit third-floor design studio. Stan stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring down at the city traffic fifteen stories below. His tall, broad frame was silhouetted against the amber glow of the setting sun, but there was no warmth in him. Not anymore."Let me see it, Stan," I whispered, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady.He didn't move. His jaw remained set in that carved, unforgiving line I had come to know so well. "It is nothing, Vivian.""Don't lie to me." I stepped closer, the soft carpet muffling my footsteps until I was standing right beside him. The scent of pine and crushed earth hovered around him, mixed with the faint, terrifying smell of ozone and dry dust. "You used it again last night, didn't you? When those corporate thugs tried to set
My Statue Husband Chapter 69: Total Rejection
Vivian's POVThe white leather contract sat between us on the glass coffee table like a fresh grave.It was bound in custom silver foil, crisp and unblemished, gleaming under the dim amber light of my tiny, rented apartment. Outside, the rain beat a relentless, hollow rhythm against the windowpanes, blurring the city lights into smears of yellow and red.Leo sat across from me on my worn fabric sofa, looking completely out of place in his tailored three-piece charcoal suit. He didn't look like a man who had dropped unannounced into a drowning woman's living room at ten o'clock on a Tuesday night. He looked like an angel of mercy who knew exactly how much his wings were worth.He smelled of rain, cedarwood, and the obscenely expensive cologne I used to buy him when we still shared a bed and a dream."Read page four," Leo said softly. His voice was as smooth as raw silk, carrying that quiet, intoxicating authority that had swept me off my feet five years ago. "The clause is entirely in
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