Lahat ng Kabanata ng Fifteen Years of Craving The Wrong Love : Kabanata 71 - Kabanata 80

Zeta’s POV She raised an eyebrow, fork paused mid-air. “Do you regret marrying her, Zeta?.” I hold her stare for a long second, then look back down at my coffee. Silence is all I give her. I’ve never once called our marriage a regret. It was always temporary in my head, an agreement between I knew I’d never love Lyssa the way I love Isabella. That truth has been into me since we were kids. Lately, though… being with Lyssa has started feeling different. Less like an obligation, more like something I actually want in my life. Just then, I shove the thought away before it can settle. Isabella tilts her head, studying me. “Why are you quiet?” I set the mug down, forcing a small smile. “Nothing important. Just work stuff. You ready to head out? I promised I’d take you to the hospital this morning.” I say, changing the topic. She replies. “The one all the way out by the highway? That’s like a forty minutes drive. Why not the family hospital? t’s ten minutes from here and they have th

Zeta’s POV Anita isn’t excited to see me, but I don’t care as I walk in without sparing her a glance and then throw the jewelry bag on the bed, and ask, “Why did you return the gift I got you? I saw it in front of my room.” I say. Anita straightens from the chair near the window, her mouth already snapping at me. “She doesn’t want to see you.” Lyssa doesn’t flinch. She’s in her robe, hair damp like she just showered. She doesn’t even look at the bag or at me. She looks at Anita. “Please just a moment.” she says quietly and nicely, her eyes pleading. Anita’s eyes flash in rage as if to refuse. “Lyssa—” “Please,” Lyssa repeats. “I’ll handle this.” Lyssa added. Anita looks at me like she wants to scratch my eyes out. “You don’t get to barge in here like this.” “I’m not here for you,” I say evenly. “That’s enough,” Lyssa says, firmer now. “Anita, please.” Anita hesitates, then grabs her phone. “Fine. But don’t let him twist things to his favour.” She points at me. “You don’t get

Zeta’s POV I sighed and pulled her into my arms, tucking her head under my chin gently and cutely. Her body was stiff for half a second before she melted against me, her fingers curling into the back of my shirt like she was scared I’d disappear if she let go. “There’s no need to feel jealous, Isabella,” I murmured against her hair so sweetly. “You did the right thing by telling her the truth. But you shouldn’t have told her everything. You dumped the whole history on her in one phone call. That’s why things are so tense now.” She nodded against my chest, her head movement tender like a child. “I know. I just… I panicked when she called up your phone. I thought if she heard it from me—heard that I wasn’t some evil homewrecker—she’d stop hating me so much.” I rubbed slow circles on her back. “She doesn’t hate you. She’s just… just let her be. And every time you show up in the middle of our messy marriage, it feels like salt in the wound to her.” Isabella pulled back just enough to

Zeta’s POV The nurse finishes taping the last stitch on my forehead on the slight cut. “Also, once you get home, you need to have some rest. No screen lights, no stress, no driving by yourself for at least twenty-four hours. Concussions don’t play nice, Mr. Zeta. You push it, you’ll be back here with worse.” I nod once, mostly to get her to stop talking. She hands me the discharge papers and a little packet of pain meds. After that, I sit on the bed for a second, rubbing my temples. The pounding behind my eyes hasn’t let up, but the nausea’s dulled to a little. I slide off the bed, grab my jacket, and head down the hall, towards the reception. Ethan’s standing outside Claire’s room, arms crossed, staring at the glass door. He looks up when he hears footsteps as he sees me. “How’s she doing?” I ask. “They just finished setting her arm. She’s getting a cast now. Still in a lot of pain.” I nod. “I left my card with the officer earlier, but here’s another one.” I pull a second bl

Zeta POV The housekeeper’s knock is soft, almost apologetic. I’m still sprawled on the couch in my bed, shirt half-unbuttoned, head pounding like someone’s drilling into my skull. The injection the nurse gave me knocked me out cold earlier, and now everything feels heavy and slow as I am just waking up and feeling dizzy. “Sir,” she says from the doorway, her voice careful and respectful. “Mr. Francis… Your father is in the living room. He’s requesting your presence. I drag a hand down my face in frustration. Why is he here? “Tell him I’m busy.” She doesn’t move. “He said he’s not leaving until he sees you.” Of course he won’t. I exhale hard. “Where’s Marcus?” I ask. “He left right after you fell asleep, sir. Said he’d check in tomorrow.” I’m still pissed at Marcus. He practically dragged me out of that damn car when I tried to turn toward Fairs Restaurant, he wouldn’t let me stop Lyssa. Said I was in no state to be seen in public looking this way. He said I’d make a fool of