Semua Bab The Unwanted Wife: Bab 81 - Bab 90

Friday afternoon. Lara stood in front of Reagan’s door, her heart pounding so loud it echoed in her own ears. She hadn’t texted him. Hadn’t warned him she was coming. She hadn’t trusted herself not to chicken out or send some awkward half-explanation via text. It had to be in person. Even if every fiber of her stomach twisted in knots. Taking a deep breath, she reached out and pressed the doorbell. A few seconds passed before the door swung open. Reagan stood there, casually dressed in a black sleeveless shirt and gray sweatpants, hair slightly tousled as though he’d just gotten out of bed or finished a workout. For a brief second, her eyes—traitorous as ever—fell to his bare arms, catching the defined muscles flexing as he leaned against the door frame. She blinked, internally scolding herself. Get it together, Lara. Now is not the time to get distracted! She forced herself to focus, looking up at his face instead. Surprised flickered across Reagan’ face when he real

After finishing their grocery run, Reagan loaded the boxes into the trunk of his car while Lara slid into the passenger seat. Her stomach growled just as Reagan buckled in and started the engine.“I’m starving,” she muttered, rubbing her belly with a frown.Reagan glanced at her, amused. “Want to stop somewhere to eat?”Lara’s face lit up. “Jollibee,” she said without hesitation.He chuckled at her immediate enthusiasm. “Alright, if that’s what you want, Jollibee it is.”He pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward the nearest branch. Once they arrived, the iconic red and yellow storefront greeted them. Inside, families filled the tables, chattering, kids squealing, and the familiar scent of fried chicken wafting in the air.“I’ll line up,” Reagan offered. “You can go find us a table.”“Okay. Thanks.”Lara weaved weaved through the crowded restaurant until she found a table by the fiberglass wall. Warm sunlight streamed in, casting a soft glow over the space. She settled into her

Monday came, and just like he promised, Reagan began driving Lara to school every morning. And every afternoon, he’d be there waiting to bring her home. It quickly became their quiet little routine. Out of gratitude, Lara would always prepare something simple for him each morning—usually sandwiches, sometimes a small bento, always paired with a tumbler of coffee she brewed herself. It wasn’t much, but it was her way of saying thank you. Reagan never said much about it, but he always accepted it with a smile, a soft “Thanks”, and then take a sip of the coffee like it was the best part of his day. And somehow, that small exchange became the gentlest part of her mornings. But not everything was peaceful. Lucas remained persistent. Gifts continued to arrive at school. A bouquet. A box of chocolates. Designer gifts. Food deliveries. She never touched any of them. Just like before, Lara would throw the gifts into the trash after class, no matter how expensive they looked. As for the

The car ride was calm and quiet, save for the soft hum of classical jazz drifting from the speaker. Lara sat comfortably in the passenger seat, her fingers loosely folded in her lap, as she gazed out the window, watching the blur of Manila’s city lights pass them by in streaks of gold and red. She turned to him, her voice gentle but curious. “So… where exactly is the gala being held? And what’s it about?” Reagan glanced at her, one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on the gear. “At the Grand Hyatt Manila,” he replied. “One of my key investors is hosting it. Some of my partners will be there, along with a few VIPs. It’s mainly a networking event, but the heart of it is the charity auction.” “An auction?” she repeated, interest sparking in her eyes. Reagan nodded. “The proceeds will go to youth mental health programs—therapy, counseling, crisis interventions, school support systems. It’s a cause close to the host’s heart. His daughter’s been battling with bipolar depr

They continued dancing, their bodies moving slowly in sync with the music, the rest of the world fading into the background. Lara allowed herself, for the first time in a long while, to simply be in the moment. When the song finally ended, Reagan slowly loosened his hold before placing his hand on her back as he led her back to their table. They had barely settled back into their seats when two familiar figures approached—Duke and Ash. Duke moved ahead, his strides clipped and tense. Without waiting for an invitation, he took the seat directly across from them. His eyes locked onto Lara and Reagan, burning with unspoken questions. Ash, on the other hand, offered a polite smile. “Good evening, Reagan. Lara.” “Hey,” Reagan said smoothly, nodding at him. Lara smiled back. “Hi, Ash. Good to see you again.” “Likewise,” Ash said before taking a seat beside Duke. The moment of courtesy barely passed when Duke leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his gaze sharp and unrelen