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Behind the Care
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2026-01-24 16:52:06Gabriel returned home at exactly twelve that night.
Over the years, no matter how busy he claimed to be, he always came home before midnight. He never spent the night out. Never raised suspicion. Who would have imagined that such a careful, devoted man had another family?
He opened the bedroom door and stopped short.
Victoria was sitting up in bed, her eyes red and swollen, tear tracks still visible on her face. A flicker of concern crossed Gabriel’s features.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said softly. “I’m late. Are you overthinking again?”
Gabriel’s care had always shown in small gestures—bringing home her favorite foods, checking her medicines, tucking the blanket around her shoulders. Victoria had once believed meeting him, and marrying him, was a gift from God.
That night, she finally understood the truth.
Gabriel moved closer to the bed and set the food aside. As he leaned in to help Victoria sit up, a scent brushed past her senses.
His Perfume,It was soft, expensive, and smelled differently—nothing like the mild, unscented lotion she used because strong smells made her nauseous. she froze for a while.
Gabriel didn’t notice.
He reached into his pocket and placed something on the bedside table. A small velvet pouch.
Victoria’s eyes drifted to the pouch despite herself.
Later, after Gabriel fell asleep, she picked it up with shaking fingers and opened it.
A receipt slid out.
Two items.
One—a delicate necklace.
Her heart sank as she recognized both from the surveillance footage she had watched earlier.
The necklace was for Sandra.
The date on the receipt was today.
And next to the total, written neatly in ink, was a different name, not hers.
Victoria stared at it until her chest began to ache. So this was how he did it—carefully, without ever missing a step. He could buy gifts, give affection, build memories… and still come home to her, wearing the mask of a devoted husband.
She lowered the pouch slowly, her hands trembling.
How many nights had he returned home like this? Carrying the warmth of another woman, the laughter of another family, while she lay here believing she was loved?
If he could lie this easily…
Then none of it had ever been real.
Her stomach twisted in knots. As she thought about it, she felt dizzy.
Victoria barely made it to the bathroom before she threw up. Her knees gave way, and she collapsed onto the cold floor, shaking, tears streaming down her face.
Why, Gabriel? she cried silently.
If you don’t love me, why pretend so well?
“Victoria?” Gabriel’s voice came from outside the door, filled with urgency.
She pressed her hands to her face, biting back sobs.
Why did he treat her this way?
That night, Victoria spiked a high fever.
Gabriel rushed her to the hospital.
She didn’t know how long she'd slept, but familiar voices woke her up. She kept her eyes shut as she recognized the sound of Gabriel speaking with Allwell Founder, her doctor… and his cousin.
“Gabriel,” Allwell said quietly, “Victoria’s condition is critical. She may not last a month. Are you still giving the kidney to someone else?”
Silence stretched.
Then Gabriel spoke.
“I’m sticking with my decision. You didn’t see Sandra crying in front of me. I can’t bear that. For Victoria, I’ll find another kidney in time.”
Allwell hesitated. “And how will you explain it to her?”
Gabriel’s voice hardened.
A pause.
“But Victoria is your lawful wife,” Allwell pressed. “The Bathram family gave you your status, and your wealth. Can you really be this heartless?”
Victoria lay perfectly still, her world collapsing quietly around her.
Victoria lay perfectly still, her world collapsing quietly around her.
Gabriel gave a low, bitter laugh.
“Yes, I owe my success to the Bathram family,” he said. “But haven’t I been good to Victoria? How many men would do what I’ve done? Even when her illness left her unable to have children, did I ever complain? I’ve got nothing to feel guilty about.”
Under the blanket, Victoria’s fingers clenched tightly around the bedsheet.
Her heart felt as though it had been carved out of her chest.
So this was how he justified it. His loyalty during her illness, his patience, his care—he believed they earned him the right to betray her. As if staying by her side while quietly planning her death made him noble.
Whether he truly felt no guilt or was simply lying to himself, only Gabriel knew.
Allwell’s voice was low but sharp. “Don’t you care if she lives or dies?”
Gabriel didn’t answer.
Instead, he stepped closer to the bed. His fingers brushed Victoria’s cheek, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was careful, almost tender, but Victoria felt it like fire.
Every place his skin touched burned with unbearable pain. She wanted to pull away, to scream, to tear the lie from his mouth—but she stayed still. Silent and trapped inside her own body.
“Rest,” Gabriel murmured softly, as if she could hear him. “You’ll be fine.”
His hand lingered for a moment longer, then withdrew.
Inside, something in Victoria broke—not loudly, not all at once, but completely.
In that moment, she understood.
He would not save her.
And if she waited for his mercy, she would die waiting.
Victoria remained motionless, her breathing slow and even, but her mind was already moving—quietly, carefully.
If he believed she was helpless, then she would let him believe it.
And when she finally opened her eyes again, it would not be as his wife begging to live…
…but as a woman who had nothing left to lose.
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