Five Years of Pretending: I Quit. Now My Husband's Lost It
Monica · Completed · 5.5k Words
Introduction
But on the day of my birthday banquet, he disappeared.
When I found him in a corner of the back garden, he was pitifully clutching the hem of my best friend Qiao Anran's dress.
That man—usually so devoted and obedient to me—now had red-rimmed eyes and a trembling voice.
"Anran, how much longer do I have to keep acting? Lin Jiaqi is already better. Please, just look back at me, won't you?"
Qiao Anran closed her eyes, her face twisted in pain, then coldly pushed him away.
"Qin Sicheng, I'll say it again: as long as Lin Jiaqi is alive, you can only be her husband. This is what you owe me, and what I owe the Lin family."
I covered my mouth, staring at the diamond ring he had just given me, my heart shattering completely.
So the husband who had always loved me so deeply—it was all an act.
Chapter 1
Everyone knows that Alaric Boleyn is crazy about me. To cure my depression, he gave up the chance to study abroad and stayed by my side.
But on my birthday, he disappeared.
When I found him in a corner of the back garden, he was desperately clutching my best friend Joanne Dixon's dress.
The man who usually did everything I asked was now red-eyed and trembling.
"Joanne, how long do I have to keep acting? Catherine's illness is cured. Please, be with me, okay?"
Joanne closed her eyes, pain written all over her face, then coldly pushed him away.
"Alaric, I'll say it one more time. As long as Catherine is alive, you can only be her husband. This is what you owe me, and what I owe the Stuart Family."
I covered my mouth, looking at the diamond ring he just gave me, completely heartbroken.
It turns out my husband, who always loved me deeply, was just acting all along.
Chapter 1
"Catherine, make a wish." Alaric's voice was gentle.
I closed my eyes and put my hands together.
Above my head, fireworks filled the sky, forming my name, Catherine Stuart.
The whole city knew that Alaric spent fifty million just to make his girlfriend with depression happy.
I opened my eyes, feeling them getting hot, and threw myself into his arms.
"Alaric, thank you. I'm feeling much better."
His embrace was warm, his arms held me tight.
But from someone's phone recording nearby, I saw where his gaze was fixed.
Standing there was my best friend, Joanne Dixon.
She tilted her head back and downed her drink in one gulp, looking somewhat lonely.
Alaric, holding me, instantly stiffened, his arms squeezing me painfully.
Was he worried about Joanne?
I knew Joanne had serious stomach problems and couldn't drink alcohol at all.
"What's wrong?" I pretended not to know and looked up at him.
Alaric quickly looked away, the panic in his eyes disappearing fast as he continued playing his devoted role.
"Nothing, just worried you're cold."
He took off his jacket and put it on me, his movements practiced, showing no sign of pretense.
Just then, Joanne walked over.
Her face was pale, but she forced a smile and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
The tenderness in her eyes even exceeded Alaric's.
"You look beautiful tonight," she said softly, her voice hoarse.
Then she turned to look at Alaric.
"Take care of Catherine. It's windy at night, don't let her catch a cold."
Alaric lowered his head like a child who'd done something wrong and mumbled a response.
The atmosphere made me feel suffocated.
"I'm going to the restroom."
I left the banquet hall like I was escaping.
The restroom had poor soundproofing.
"Joanne is really crazy."
"Right? Giving up the man she's loved since childhood to someone else, just to repay a debt?"
"I heard Catherine's sister died saving Joanne. That's a huge debt."
"But you can't just give away Alaric like he's an object. Did you see how he looked at Joanne just now? Full of love."
I stood in the stall, my whole body frozen.
My hand stopped mid-air as I was about to push the door open. I didn't walk out until the people outside left.
When the party ended, Alaric came to pick me up.
He leaned back in his seat, looking exhausted.
I tried to reach out to hold his hand.
The second before I touched him, he dodged it by adjusting the rearview mirror.
My empty fingers curled up awkwardly.
"Time for your medicine."
He took out the familiar white pill bottle from the glove compartment, poured out two pills, and handed them to me.
"Take them, and you'll be normal," he said quietly, almost like he was talking to himself.
Looking at those two white pills, I suddenly felt my throat tighten.
"Alaric, if my illness gets better, will you still treat me this well?"
Alaric's hand on the ignition paused for a moment. He gave me a perfunctory smile.
"Be good, don't overthink. We'll talk about it when you're better."
That night, I had a nightmare I hadn't had in a long time.
In the dream, there was a huge fire.
My sister, Saskia Stuart, was desperately pushing Joanne out of the flames, shouting, "Take care of Catherine! You must take care of her!"
I woke up with a start.
Instinctively, I reached out to feel the space beside me.
Alaric wasn't there.
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