After being reborn, I make up my mind to stop chasing after my husband and daughter

Chapter 22

In our six years of marriage, we’d only dined out for family holidays. Most nights we ate at home, though often interrupted by his endless phone calls. I’d cooked elaborate meals that went untouched.

Now that we had private servants preparing perfectly balanced dinners every night, he suddenly wanted to take me out.

I’d endured years of loneliness, disappointment, and the quiet heartbreak of constant rejection. Now it was his turn to taste that bitterness.

“Can’t. My plate’s full. Ask someone else.” I kept my eyes on my work, feigning concentration.

Jared went completely still. The polite smile froze on his face. He’d anticipated delight, not this offhand rejection.

“The work will still be there after dinner,” he said, with uncharacteristic patience.

“I’m not hungry.” I glanced up with a bland smile. “Had dessert earlier.”

Some of the tension left his posture when he realized this was about schedules, not rejection.

“I’ll head back for Yvonne then. Don’t work too late.” With that, he left without another word, and I returned to my files,

Jared said he needed to call a board meeting to decide on the appointment, but I knew it was just a formality.

He ruled the company with absolute authority. His competence left no room for challenges.

Our personal relationship blurred professional lines, but I believed that Jared could silence critics effortlessly.

It was 11 p.m. when I got home, arms full of documents. Jared had already tucked Yvonne in and was lounging on the sofa in his pajamas, sipping coffee.

I walked in, setting his coffee cup aside and crossing his long legs. His piercing eyes fixed on me as he said, “You’re

to make sense of some things,” I said flatly. I kicked off my shoes

stayed frozen for a beat before

I grabbed my pajamas and ducked into the

my sweet time–thirty minutes–and when I finally stepped out, he was propped against the headboard

very moment. But when he finally lay beside me and I reached out, he’d catch my wrist,

woman in the mirror looked different now -her eyes held no trace of

the bed, impatience creeping into his voice. I’d taken longer than

was thinking about sex. Was he going

outfits had been more deliberately feminine–silky blouses, curves accentuated. Men always noticed those things. He might not love me, but that didn’t mean he didn’t

1/3

I settled in, he threw his

toward me

slid over my body, fingers burning against the curve of my waist before

caught his wrist. “Too tired tonight,” I mumbled into

“It’s been three months,”

I muttered, not

and my desires. Normally, I’d be crawling out of my skin after three months without it,

I didn’t want him at all anymore. Jared used to be the one losing interest, but

noticeably heavier. In the past, one word of refusal

me. Angry as he clearly was, none of his usual gentlemanly restraint

suddenly at my ear, his teeth