LOGINThe Love I Found in His Uncle For years, Layla sacrificed everything for her marriage to Grayson, only to discover that the man she loved was cheating on her and saw her as a useless wife. Broken and with nowhere to go, fate led her to Chris, her husband’s powerful uncle, who offered her not only a place to stay but also helped her rediscover the talent she had been forced to abandon. Chris gave her back her confidence, freedom, and hope of loving again. But what happens when Layla begins falling for the one man who could turn her new life into the family’s biggest scandal? Grayson made her feel worthless. His uncle will show her what it means to be loved.
View MoreChapter 1:
The Forgotten Wife
Layla's POV
The table was set. Two candles flickered gently, casting warm light across the silverware. The wine glasses sparkled, and the roast chicken I had carefully made sat untouched in the center. Everything looked perfect. Neat. Inviting. But the seat across from mine was empty. Again.
I stared at it for a long time. I tried not to think too much, but my chest felt heavy. I looked at the clock. It was almost 9 p.m. He said he'd be home by seven. I smoothed down the new dress I had bought just for tonight. Soft navy blue silk that hugged my body. I had even curled my hair, added perfume, and wore lipstick-something I hadn't done in a long time. All for him. For Grayson. But the house was quiet. Too quiet. I picked up my phone and opened our chat. No new message.
My fingers hovered over the screen for a moment, then I finally typed: "Dinner's ready. Are you close?" I waited. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Nothing.
Then, finally, a message popped up. "Caught up in a meeting. Don't wait." Just five words. That's all he sent. No I'm sorry. No I'll make it up to you. Just Don't wait. My hand trembled as I set the phone down.
I stared at the message until the words blurred.
My throat ached. My heart felt like it had been squeezed too tight. He wasn't coming home. Again. I had lost count of how many nights I'd done this. Set the table for two. Cooked something special. Waited with hope. And ate alone. Every. Single. Time. It hadn't always been like this.
When we first got married, he used to rush home to see me. We would laugh, talk about our day, cuddle on the couch. Now, I couldn't remember the last time he touched me without looking tired... or distant. I had become... invisible. To him, I was just someone who lived in the same house. I blinked away tears and stood up. I didn't have the strength to eat. I walked to the kitchen, packed up the food, and placed it in the fridge. I glanced at my reflection in the glass oven door. I didn't even recognize myself anymore.
I wandered into the living room and sat on the couch. Something inside me felt empty. Like I was waiting for someone who didn't care if he showed up or not. I opened my phone again, more out of habit than hope. And that's when I saw it. A new photo. It was from one of those gossip pages that follow elite parties and private lounges. There he was. Grayson. At a lounge he told me he'd never go to without me. His jacket was off, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, laughing, drink in hand. Sitting beside him was her. Sasha. The woman people whispered about. The one who always showed up in the background of his events.
His "colleague." Her hand was on his arm. And he was smiling at her the way he hadn't smiled at me in months. I stared at the photo, and my stomach turned. He married me... but he drinks with her. He promised me a life... but shares it with someone else. I didn't cry right away. My eyes just stayed open, fixed on the photograph. Then, gradually, the sobs started. They came creeping down unexpectedly, wetting my cheeks, dripping onto my skirt. But I couldn't look away. It was as if the person had stabbed me right in the heart. I didn't even change my outfit.
I just went upstairs in quiet. My heels echoed in the corridor like little reminders that I was still alone. His bed untouchable.
I lay back onto my back, still wearing that navy-blue dress, makeup smeared, perfume faded. The sheets still had his scent. But he wasn't there. I turned to his pillow and buried my face into it, hoping-just hoping-he would open the door, kiss my forehead, and say, "I'm sorry. I love you." But the door stayed closed. And the silence engulfed me once again. I didn't marry him to feel this alone. I married him for love. To build something.
To possess something. But all I had was a ring on my finger and a pain in my heart. "I didn't marry him to feel this alone," I whispered into the pillow, my words little more than a sigh. And for the first time... I wondered what my life would be like without waiting for him to come back.
Chapter 5: The Stranger's Home Layla's POV I held my bag tightly as the car drove through the quiet, private road. The further we went, the more I realized this wasn't just a house we were headed to-it was a world I had never been part of. When the car finally stopped, I stepped out and stared. The house was... breathtaking. Not just beautiful, but grand. Modern glass walls, warm golden lights glowing from inside, and a water fountain dancing at the center of the driveway. Everything was clean, elegant, and luxurious. The kind of place you only saw in movies. Not even Grayson's home-with all its cold marble and pride-came close to this. I couldn't hide the way my lips parted in surprise. Chris stepped beside me and noticed the look on my face. "It's not too much, is it?" he asked softly. I shook my head. "It's... more than I expected." He gave a small smile. "You'll get used to it." I wasn't sure I would. Inside, the air was warm and smelled like fresh linen and something rich-
Chapter Four: A Place For Me Layla's POV The sunlight that slipped through the curtains the next morning was soft and warm, but it did nothing to ease the heaviness in my chest. I hadn't slept much. My body was tired, but my heart was worse-tired, sore, full of noise and silence at the same time. I sat up slowly, my fingers brushing over the blanket that covered me. The hospital room was quiet. Peaceful. Almost too peaceful for what my heart was going through. A soft knock came at the door before a nurse pushed it open gently. She gave me a small, kind smile. "Good morning, ma'am. The doctor said you're good to be discharged today. Your test results came back clean. You just need a little rest." I nodded, forcing a polite smile. "Thank you." She gave me the paperwork to sign, then walked out, leaving the door half open. As I placed the pen down on the little clipboard, I heard another knock. This time, firmer. A little slower. When the door opened wider, I already knew who it w
Chapter 3: The Man Who Stopped Layla's POV I didn't even know where I was going. I just kept walking. The rain was falling hard, soaking my clothes, my shoes squishing with every step. But I couldn't stop. If I stopped, I would fall apart completely. My heart felt like it was in pieces. Each breath hurt. Why did I even go there? Why did I try? I held onto the little box in my hand - the gift I had bought him with money I didn't even have. It was wet now, crushed, and useless. Just like everything else I gave to that man. I walked faster. Cars honked. People rushed past me with umbrellas. But I didn't care. I just wanted to run from everything. From the way he looked at me like I was a stranger. From how she laughed at me like I was a fool. From the empty silence that had become my life. My vision blurred from tears and rain. I didn't realize I had stepped into the street. I didn't hear the car until it was too late. A loud horn. Screeching tires. Then pain. So much pain. My bo
Chapter 2: The Gift He Didn't Want Layla's POV I looked at the gift box again, holding it close to my chest like it was something fragile-something sacred. It was a watch. A rare one. Grayson once told me about it when we were still talking like husband and wife. I remember how his eyes sparkled that day. Just for a second. That spark had gone now, but I remembered it. So I searched for the watch. I saved money. I even skipped buying new shoes last month just so I could afford it. It wasn't about the money-it was about him. I wanted him to know I still cared. That someone still remembered the things he loved. Maybe... just maybe... he would look at me the way he used to. Maybe this small gift would bring him back to me-just a little. I looked in the mirror before leaving the house. I had taken my time to look good. My hair was soft around my shoulders, and I wore the perfume he once said reminded him of our honeymoon. I smiled at my reflection. But it was a nervous smile. I












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