Untouched for Three Years: Leaving My Billionaire Husband and Return the Pool

She moved in close, lifted her face, and kissed him.It was awkward at first. Her lips brushed his with more courage than skill. She laid both hands on his chest. He felt warm and solid under her fingers. One hand slid up to his neck but she stopped short of pulling him in closer. Romy kept her eyes closed, perhaps to shut out any show of rejection in his expression.He smelled faintly of soap and the clean, tangy trace of cedar that had clung to his shirts for as long as she had known him. It was a scent so familiar, it never failed to tease her senses. For three years, she had slept beside it, folded it from his laundry, breathed it in from the empty side of the bed after he had already risen.Now it was close enough to touch.She pressed her mouth to his again, a little insistent this time, trying to follow instinct where experience failed her. Her fingers tightened in the robe. She was aware of everything at once—the warmth of him, the damp ends of her hair against her neck, the p

“Hey, look, isn’t that Devon?” Serena asked aloud, with sudden interest. “Who’s that woman with him?”Clara craned her neck to look at the entrance to the center. A second later, curiosity gave way to recognition, and then to the sort of smile that made every private matter feel like something laid out for public entertainment.“Oh,” she said, drawing the word out. “That’s Caroline, isn’t it? The one Devon used to…” Serena understood at once.Her gaze shifted toward Romy, and the sympathy that appeared on her face was so exaggerated it became cruel.“Wait,” Serena said, lowering her voice without bothering to make it truly quiet. “You didn’t follow Devon here, did you? God, Romy. That’s actually sad.”Clara chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Imagine chasing your own husband, to spy on his date.”Romy heard them.She also heard what they had not yet said aloud: that her husband and his first love had come here together, brazenly unapologetic, as if there were nothing strange

Romy felt herself go rigid.It had been a long time since she’d heard that name. After getting married, she gave up training and cut ties with all her former social connections.She became a wife, but very few people knew she was Mrs. Kensington.As if, after getting married, she had lost her name.She was merely Romy.Slowly, she turned back, drawing the towel a little higher around her shoulders. Her face was bare of makeup, cool and pale from the water, yet against the blue of the pool behind her, there was something striking about that unadorned stillness—something clean, hard, and impossible to dress up or diminish.“Coach Miller,” she said quietly. Her eyes felt warm before she could stop them.“It really is you.” Miller reached her in several long strides. The severe face that had stared down champions, sponsors, and entire committees without softening was now filled with disbelief and something close to pain. His gaze moved over her old black training suit, the towel clutched

Coach Miller frowned, but he didn’t answer.Caroline went on as if she hadn’t noticed his coldness. She lifted one hand and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, offering a shy little smile that had clearly been softened for effect.“It’s just that I actually loved swimming when I was at school,” she said. “I wasn’t trained professionally, of course, but my classmates always said I had talent. I was quite good at butterfly and freestyle, and my fitness scores were always among the best in school.”As she spoke, her gaze flicked back to Devon, seeking support. An unspoken plea for him to help her carry this moment.Devon read it. His lips opened and his throat worked once as though he were about to speak.Yet, before he could, Romy spoke up. It was calm, mild, even touched with a little curiosity, as if she were asking a question in perfect sincerity.“Caroline, you said you were quite good at swimming in school?”Caroline paused, caught off guard by the sudden interruption. Th

The Reproductive Medicine Department at St Mary’s Hospital was on the fifth floor.Romy had come to this building so many times that even the security guard at the hospital entrance greeted her without being prompted. She had made every visit, however, alone.Today, someone walked beside her.Linda, the nurse at reception, looked up with her usual professional smile. Her gaze settled on Romy’s face, and the familiar greeting was already forming on her lips.“Miss Palmer, your appointment today is —”Then she saw the man standing beside Romy.Linda’s smile froze for a full two seconds.Her eyes moved from Romy to the imposing man beside her, who stood more than half a head taller, his presence too polished and commanding for the department’s regular visitors. In eight years working in reproductive medicine, Linda had seen countless women come in alone. Some arrived red-eyed. Some came expressionless. Some clutched messages from partners who had refused to attend.She rarely saw the hus