She Accepted Divorce, He Panicked by Nyx Rai

Scarlett's POV

Sebastian is in the shower.

My mind was a mess in the car. I couldn't even begin to think about Jack Fuller's confession, Damian Vanderbilt's questions, or even just Sebastian's offer. In the end, the easiest decision was:

He needed to get out of the wet shirt.

He took my offer, but he put the hot water in the bathtub with my favorite salt, and he insisted on me taking a hot bath first. It did help a lot. I took my time in there, feeling the warmth of the water softening my stiff muscles. I only came out to see that he didn't take a shower himself, but waited for me in his wet shirt.

In my gentle pajamas and soft slippers, I curl up on the cushions of our bay window, watching the quiet night view outside. I don't miss this view. This is where I usually sit when I have to wait for my husband over midnight, or when he leaves me alone after yet another fight.

But now, this view gives me peace.

It comes from his changes, I know. I didn't dare hope for such a safety from him, but now I'm getting greedy again. I stroke my belly that's getting hard to hide, trying to make that decision.

Could I stay in this marriage with him? Am I doing that for myself? Or am I doing that for the baby?

under the care of his father. But is it just another wrong reason to stay in a marriage, just like

he doesn't. He just remained silent and did not talk about any of it. I feel

want to feel safe, but it's so hard to piece together something that's totally broken. I don't like myself with so much misgivings. I like things simple and clear. I love with all I have and I leave with no regret. That's the real me. Not this women who is trying to stay in a marriage when she doesn't have love in

comes out

has only a towel around his waist, water dripping from his hair as steam spouts off him. Tiny flows of water trails down his muscled chest all the way to the maze of his eight packs. He

the towel in front of me before he puts them on

at his

point of

finally comes over, as if encouraged by my laugh. He picks my hand and

But I know it's more out of

go back in time, and start our marriage like

mistakes. Now they are all between us,

my hand, gazing at it

my skin with his thumb, his rough touch sending tingles through melike electric

at the man's almost pious look, I follow my rush of wanting to make things

her name. Even thinking about it brings up too many bad memories of too many bad