Lahat ng Kabanata ng Dear Husband, My Turn To Love You : Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

SebastianHolding Olivia was like coming home—warm, familiar, and just a little addictive…okay a lot.She smelled amazing, and I wasn’t letting go anytime soon. The scent of her filled my lungs, calming the chaos constantly raging in my mind. I hadn't realized how starved I was for this feeling."I missed you so much, Olivia."She pulled back from my embrace. "What was so urgent that you couldn’t tell me, what kind of husband leaves his wife for days like that?" Her voice was soft as a pout formed on her lips. I had expected a scolding tone, maybe even a full-blown lecture, but instead, I heard a sweetness I could never get used to. It was the kind that chipped away at my walls.Her captivating hazel eyes stared back at me, but they held worry. Worry about what, exactly? Was it Philip? Or did they contact her? No… no, they wouldn’t dare. I made sure of that."Are you alright?" I asked in a quiet voice, laced with concern, the weight of the unspoken questions tightening in my chest."

KayleeI sat still, watching as the hospital cleaners came in to sweep up the mirror particles scattered across the floor.The shards glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights like shattered pieces of me—mocking, glittering, reflecting my brokenness back at me. How did this happen?How did my life become this?The stupid cleaners weren't exactly quiet. Their rubber soles squeaked against the tile with every step, and their whispering voices weren’t whispers at all. “Isn’t that the supermodel who fell on the red carpet?”“I mean, models fall all the time, but she just had to overexaggerate hers, right?”“Plus she's been a total bitch. She slapped Monica across the face last night—such a wrench. But, she's so ugly now, even I feel pity.”They giggled. As if my entire existence had become their little punchline.I, Kaylee Kingsley, was ugly. How was that even possible?!Slowly, I raised my hand to touch my face. My hand trembled as it drew closer. My stomach tightened. The weight of

SebastianThe car hummed softly as my driver waited for my next instructions. Outside, the street was empty—too calm, like the kind of calm that comes before a storm. I couldn’t believe I was about to do this, but it had to be done—and the only chance of getting out of this mess was talking to Charles Lancaster.The silence outside was almost mocking. Pale streetlights cast long shadows across the cobbled road, and the gates of Lancaster Manor loomed in the distance like the jaws of some sleeping beast.I gave my driver a sign to drive into the estate—Lancaster Manor. The familiar building up ahead brought a wave of nostalgia, curling through my gut like smoke. But even that couldn’t drown out the bitter truth—nothing beats staying the hell away from my father.We stopped in front of the huge mansion, and my driver opened the door for me. I got out, adjusted my suit jacket, hands in my pockets. The chill in the air bit at my neck, I hesitated for just a split second before walking in.

OliviaThe room was quiet—only the sound of my keypad clicking echoed through the space. It was 2 a.m., and my inbox was overflowing with messages. I had hired a manager to represent me as the Masked Model, but I never expected things to blow up this fast. It had barely been a month and I’d only walked three shows ever since, but my new socials as the Masked Model were blowing up.The room smelled faintly of vanilla and paper from Sebastian’s earlier notes. The soft hum of the heater mixed with the rhythmic clicking of my keyboard, filling the silence in a strange, comforting way.Brands were lining up for partnerships. They all wanted me to walk in their shows. The deals I was landing were the kind most models spent their entire careers chasing.I glanced over at Sebastian. He was sleeping peacefully beside me, and I smiled. The curve of his lips, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath—it calmed me. I didn’t want him getting involved—at least, not yet. I planned to tell him

KayleeI stared at my reflection in the mirror.The dim lighting of my condo bathroom cast soft golden streaks on the marble floor, but even that warmth couldn’t soften what I saw in the mirror. My face—raw, angry, ruined—was a stranger’s. I clutched the edge of the sink, knuckles white, breath shallow. It's been weeks now, and I still haven’t stepped outside. My once-glamorous condo felt like a damn prison, and I was stuck in solitary. I felt lost, and that little wretch–Olivia–kept saying, “It’s not that bad,” like that pathetic lie would change a damn thing.My face looked fucking burnt. Like someone lit a match and smiled while I screamed. How did this happen? I kept asking, day in, day out. But silence was the only answer.This was sabotage—had to be. But who’d be bold enough to come for me? No one on my makeup team would dare. They knew better.That night kept replaying like a sick joke I couldn’t escape. The only person who wasn’t supposed to be there... was Olivia.Was it Oli