บททั้งหมดของ He Chose My Sister, So I Married His Enemy: บทที่ 151 - บทที่ 160

"Show me," I said, reaching for the phone before he could stop me."You haven't heard the explanation.""I've found visual evidence usually improves your explanations," I said, and he handed it over without much more resistance than that.The apartment was beautiful in a restrained way, modern, clean lines, company furniture chosen for comfort rather than personality. I scrolled through the living room, the kitchen, the office nook, and then stopped on a photo of the bedroom with those tall windows he'd mentioned before. Beside the window, in the corner where the light pooled brightest, there was nothing at all. No furniture. No decoration. Just space, deliberately empty.I recognized it immediately, because weeks ago, scrolling through apartment listings together, he'd told me without thinking that I'd put my reading chair right there."You left it empty," I said."Yes.""Why?"He gave me a look that made it clear I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear him say it anyway. He

I got to Black Group early enough to catch him still finishing a meeting through the glass wall of the conference room, jacket still on, voice carrying that particular authority that made everyone at the table lean in slightly. I had married Damien knowing he looked unfairly good in a suit. Apparently marriage had not made me immune to it.He noticed me eventually, once the room emptied, and knew exactly what I'd been doing by the way I was standing there. "How long have you been standing there?""Not long.""Were you watching me?""You were in the way.""Of what?" he asked, and I didn't have an answer, which he clearly enjoyed far more than he should have. He walked over slowly, taking his time about it, and told me I could simply say I'd missed him. I pointed out I'd seen him that morning, and he said that wasn't the question. He kissed me lightly at first, mindful of where we were, and I wanted considerably more than that."We are in my office," he said."I'm aware.""You seem unco

Five days left, and I got home later than I'd planned, already looking forward to dinner with Damien. His message was waiting on my phone instead of him.Running late. Eat without me.Nothing was wrong. He had transition meetings, I had implementation prep, nobody had done anything to be sorry for. That was exactly what made the disappointment so irritating, that I couldn't even direct it anywhere useful. I heated my food and left his covered on the stove, and told myself I wasn't listening for the front door while I worked at the kitchen table.I fell asleep on the sofa waiting for him, notebook still open on my chest. He woke me gently, hours later, moving the notebook aside and brushing hair off my face until I blinked up at him."What time is it?"He told me. Too late."Did you eat?""Eventually.""That's not an answer.""It was food-adjacent," he said, and I laughed despite myself, though he looked as tired as I felt. We'd spent the entire day in the same city and I'd barely seen

The next two days passed the way ordinary days pass when you're not paying too much attention to how quickly they're going. I stopped calling things last. I didn't stand in the doorway trying to memorize Friday breakfast, didn't stop Damien halfway through the morning just to look at him. I went to work. He went to work. We texted stupid things and met late and kissed and slept and woke up and did it again. I still knew the number. I had simply stopped making Damien compete with it.My first implementation schedule went final that week, and I sent Damien a photo of my name printed at the top of it, more for the pleasure of showing him than for any need to hear him say something meaningful about it. Try not to overthrow anyone before lunch, he wrote back, and I told him no promises, and the ordinary rhythm of it felt like exactly the right way to spend the days we had left.By the time I got home the night before he left, something had already changed in the house. His laptop was shut.

The house looked exactly the same, which was somehow what felt wrong about it. His mug still sat where he'd left it that morning. His charger was still plugged in beside the bed. I reached for it before I remembered I had promised not to make absence efficient, and left it exactly where it was.I didn't spend the afternoon falling apart. I showered, changed, made something to eat, and answered a couple of programme messages that had been sitting in my inbox since morning. My life hadn't stopped when Damien boarded the plane. It just felt strange doing it without knowing he was about to walk through the door at the end of the day.I found his blue folder tucked into a drawer where I'd hidden it as a joke weeks ago, and photographed it before I could stop myself. *Your precious folder survived,* I typed, and hit send, and watched it sit there unsent for longer than it should have, because he was still somewhere over an ocean with his phone in airplane mode. I knew exactly why. It still