Semua Bab CEO’s regret: Winning my wife back : Bab 21 - Bab 30

—ELEANOR -“Leon?”The name leaves Arthur’s mouth like a stone dropped into water, sending ripples across a surface I’ve tried so hard to keep still.I freeze.It takes a full second before my brain catches up to what he just said.Leon.My chest tightens. I stare at him, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.That name hasn’t been spoken aloud in years. Not here. Not in this room. Not by Arthur. Especially not by Arthur.I blink, trying to compose myself, but I know he sees the flicker of panic that crosses my face.He must.“No,” I say quickly, sharper than I intend. “That’s impossible. It couldn’t have been Leon.”Arthur’s brows pull together slightly, like he’s trying to gauge whether I’m denying the possibility or protecting it. But I don’t give him a chance to ask. I shift my weight, forcing the bedsheets back around me and turning my head away.“I’m full,” I say quietly, voice taut. “You can go now.”He doesn’t move.Of course he doesn’t.Arthur stays seated, shoulders te

—ELEANOR.-With proper rest after the meal Arthur insisted on feeding me, I must’ve drifted off longer than I meant to. The next morning greets me with the subtle sting of awareness and a dull ache in my wrist. The IV needle has come undone, leaving a gentle pinch in its wake — but also a strange sense of freedom. The weight of the tube, the confinement of it, is gone. Finally.Doctors shuffle in like birds through an open window — white coats, clipped words, tired but practiced smiles. One of them adjusts the cuff on his wrist and speaks gently. “Your wrist needs a few more days to heal, Miss Eleanor, but there’s nothing more we can do here. Nature will handle the rest.”I nod. Of course I want to leave.There’s no reason to stay. No reason to endure another second inside this place where everything smells like antiseptic and faint betrayal. If I see either of them again — Brianna or Arthur — I might scream. Or worse: cry. I can’t give them that.Since I’d arrived in an ambulance wi

—ELEANOR -It’s been exactly two weeks.Two weeks since I looked Arthur in the eye and told him I was tired — of the tug and pull, of the chaos he brought into my life, of the weight of loving someone who wasn’t ready to hold it. And to his credit, he’s respected my wishes. He’s given me space. Completely.My hand has fully healed now. There’s still a dull ache sometimes — a cramp here, a pinch there — but it’s not unbearable. A few gentle rotations and a quick self-massage usually fix it. The pain doesn’t linger anymore.Unlike the ache in my chest. That one stayed.I’ve spent these past two weeks holed up at home, stuffing my face with food, binge-watching documentaries I don’t even remember, and avoiding mirrors. Justin gave me time off work — “just a few weeks to breathe,” he said. But I’m done breathing into this stale, silent apartment. Cindy’s always at work, and the solitude has begun to gnaw at me like a rat in the walls.So today, I’m grateful to be leaving the house.Not f

—ELEANOR.-“What’s going on here?” Arthur looks taken aback, his eyes darting from me to the stylists weaving around the room like their lives depend on it.“Arthur! You’re here!” Cassandra’s voice comes from behind with excitement. She’s already up, already reaching for him with a joy only she can exude so effortlessly.“What’s going on, Grandma?” His voice is a little sharper this time as he faces her. “Why is—why is Eleanor here?”He barely glances at me.“Why are you sounding like she’s not your wife but a stranger?” Cassandra laughs, light and careless. “She’s here so we can all go to the annual gala tonight together,” she says proudly, beaming like this is some great reunion scene and not a storm waiting to explode.I sigh internally.This will not go well. I can feel it like a bad itch under my skin.Arthur’s expression shifts and something inside him breaks loose.“Grandma, this is not—” He struggles for words, then sighs, frustrated. “Why do you keep dragging Eleanor around

—ELEANOR.-I feel chills run down my spine as the car pulls up in front of the city’s greatest and grandest building.Of course the gala location never changes. That’s why I’m feeling all sorts of paranoia.I can still vividly recall the last time I was here—the stares, the recognition of being a wife of Arthur Newton.The forced socialization. The forced smile.It was all overwhelming. But I managed to handle it well, thanks to Cassandra.Now?Now I’m not Arthur’s wife. I’ll only pretend to be.But at least now I know how these things go. Maybe I’ll have a better shot at knowing what to say, where to look, how to smile.Arthur gets out of the car and hurries to get the door for me like the gentleman he can be—when he chooses to be.Of course. Our fake public display of affection is all we should focus on.I get out and force a smile.It’s nighttime but the sky above us could pass for midday thanks to the blinding white and golden lights pouring from the grand building.The red carpe