chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Nichole's POV

Blake blinked in confusion as he stared at me. His face showed he was running out of patience, but it didn’t matter. Once he got the good news, his mood was definitely going to improve.

"Can’t it wait? We can discuss it over dinner," he said, his thumb brushing over my palm. "We should at least eat before the food gets cold. You know I can’t stand cold meals."

I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to wait anymore. "No, it cannot," I said, my voice laced with urgency.

"Alright. It better be worth the suddenness," he retorted, rolling his eyes slightly. My hands clenched onto his for support as my chest tightened, but I forced myself to breathe.

"My love, I’m—"

Ring, ring.

Blake’s phone buzzed again, and my shoulders slumped in disappointment.

Blake ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. He clicked the side button on his phone and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Babe, I have some things to take care of," he said, dropping the bombshell. The nonchalance in his tone made my blood boil.

The softness of his lips against my cheek did little to ease my worry; instead, it made it worse. But nothing could prepare me for what Blake said next.

"Don’t wait up because I won’t be coming back home."

"What?" I gritted my teeth, shock evident in my tone.

"I’m sorry, babe, but it’s really urgent, and I have to go," he apologized.

"Well, you have to tell me where you’re going because that apology is not going to cut it," I replied in a rather loud tone. I’d never raised my voice at him before, but the way he’d been acting was weird, and I didn’t like it. For goodness’ sake, it’s our anniversary. He’s supposed to put all work aside for me—I mean, for us.

"Why do you always have to make everything so complicated? It’s not a big deal," Blake’s sharp tone cut through me, leaving an ache in my chest.

"Not a big deal?" I scoffed, my voice trembling.

He ruined our anniversary and had the audacity to dismiss it like this. Blake ran a hand through his hair, exasperated.

"Nichole , I don’t have time for this. I have to work. If I don’t, how can you afford this life?"

His words felt like a slap.

"Wow," I muttered, tears brimming. "So that’s how you see me?"

Straightening his posture, he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Yes, Nichole . That’s how it is. I work to provide, and this is how you repay me?" Without waiting for a response, he slammed the door, leaving me alone.

I collapsed onto the floor as my chest heaved with sobs. How could he treat me like this? The man who once promised me everything now made me feel like nothing. My vision blurred, my head pounded, and darkness pulled me under.

The steady beep of a monitor brought me back to reality. My eyelids fluttered open to find Jennifer, my best friend, leaning over me, her face pale with worry.

"Nichole, thank God you’re awake!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around me.

As she pulled away, I caught a glimpse of her face, confirming it was her.

"Jen, what are you doing here?" I asked urgently, gripping her hands tightly. My eyes darted around the room. "Why am I in the hospital?"

The last thing I remembered was arguing with Blake after he ruined our anniversary celebration.

I sighed inwardly, not wanting to think about it. Then my body froze as I recalled collapsing after he left. My hands tightened over Jen’s.

"How did I get here?" I asked slowly, anxiety rising in my chest. I honestly expected to hear that Blake had brought me here.

But it seemed heaven had closed its doors to all my expectations.

"I came over to your house because I’d been trying to reach you. I had something really important to tell you," she said, hesitating.

"I got to your house, and I may have twisted the doorknob... and it kind of opened."

My mouth hung open, and I pressed my lips together. She held her hands up dismissively as she stuttered.

"It’s not like I was stalking you, but I was just really worried given the way Blake..." She bit her lip, stopping herself from saying too much.

Her words brought a flood of memories—Blake’s cold words, the argument, my collapse.

"Blake..." I croaked. "Was he here?"

Jennifer’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Blake wasn’t there, Nichole. And I’ve been with your phone since morning. He hasn’t even called to check up on his wife." Her eyes rolled dramatically. "How cliché is that?"

I shook my head. "He must’ve been busy."

"Busy? Nichole, when are you going to see the truth? Blake doesn’t love you!"

"Stop it!" I snapped, my voice breaking. "He loves me. He’s just... stressed."

Jennifer stood abruptly, her frustration boiling over. "You’re in denial. Everyone at home is worried, especially Uncle."

I froze when she mentioned my dad.

"I’m not going back. I won’t."

"Your father’s sick, Nichole. He wants to see you," she pressed, her tone softening.

But I knew this tactic too well. My father wasn’t sick—he wanted to drag me back to a life I’d fought to escape.

"I’m not going home," I said firmly.

Jennifer sighed, sitting beside me. "Nichole, you deserve better than this. Blake is using you."

"He loves me," I whispered, a hand resting on my stomach.

Her eyes widened. "You’re pregnant?"

I nodded, a faint smile forming despite the tension.

"Nichole, you can’t keep this baby," Jennifer said, her voice trembling.

My chest tightened. "This baby is mine. Blake will change once he knows."

"Blake is cheating on you," she said bluntly, pulling out her phone.

"That’s not true," I protested, but my hands trembled as I took her phone.

The photo on the screen shattered me—Blake with a woman. Her face was blurry, but I recognized the dress she wore. It was the same one Lydia had worn yesterday when she came to our house.

Blake was holding her in a way he never held me. The headline below was the final blow: H.Group CEO picks up ‘wifey’ from the airport.

The phone almost slipped from my hands. My husband, the man I sacrificed everything for, was flaunting someone else.

This was overwhelming—nerve-breaking. I grabbed my phone, dialing his number, but it went straight to voicemail. Again and again, I tried, each failed attempt fueling my anger.

"Where is he?" I cried, my voice hoarse.

"Nichole, please," Jennifer pleaded. "You need to rest."

But I couldn’t. Not until I got answers.

My eyes widened. "He’s at home," I blurted out, my breath ragged. Ignoring the pain, I ripped the IV drip from my arm.

When I reached home, I rang the doorbell. Relief washed over me as I heard footsteps approaching.

But something felt off—the steps were too light against the floor.

The door swung open.

I froze, my vision blurring instantly.

"You? What are you doing here?"