The Marriage She Turned into War novel Chapter 306

Abigail's sharp instincts immediately kicked in. She caught my quick motion in shutting the laptop and frowned, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Samuel, what were you looking at?"

My heart skipped a beat, but I forced myself to stay calm. I gave her an easy smile and replied, "Nothing much, just browsing through some references for inspiration."

Her expression softened slightly at my explanation.

Abigail stepped closer, gently taking my hand in hers. "Samuel, your health isn't great. You can't keep pushing yourself like this, okay?"

I nodded lightly, meeting her gaze with a small, reassuring smile. "I know. I'll take care of myself."

I kept my demeanor neutral, hiding any hint of unease. After all, I'd promised her that I'd focus on making things work between us. There was no point in confronting uncertain suspicions right now.

…

But then I noticed her phone screen light up on the counter.

It was a missed call—from Joshua.

Before she could pick it up, a text notification popped up.

"Are you home yet, Abigail?"

The words were like a punch to the gut. It was clear now why Abigail had been out earlier. She hadn't been on any business trips. She'd been with him.

It wasn't the first time. This had happened before, and each time, she'd fed me some convenient lie.

What frustrated me most wasn't her dishonesty—it was how predictable it had all become. I couldn't even muster the energy to care anymore.

Abigail noticed me glancing at her phone. Her expression shifted to something between panic and guilt. She quickly grabbed it, shielding the screen with her hand as if that would erase what I'd just seen.

Without missing a beat, I pretended not to notice. I smiled faintly and said, "You must be exhausted from your trip. Go relax. Let me know what you feel like eating, and I'll ask Jane to make it for you."

She'd only wrapped herself in a towel, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders as water dripped onto the floor. Her warmth pressed against my back as she slid her arms around my waist, catching me completely off guard.

Through the reflection in the glass, I saw her leaning into me, her skin flushed from the shower. The scent of her body wash filled the air, mingling with the aroma of the soup.

"Abigail," I said softly, turning my head slightly. "Dry your hair first. You'll catch a cold like this."

She didn't let go. If anything, she held on tighter.

Her voice was low and raspy as she whispered against my neck, "Samuel, can we talk about our plan again?"

"Plan?" I asked, genuinely confused. "What plan?"

She pulled back slightly, just enough for me to see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes.

"Do you really not remember?" she murmured, her tone heavy with frustration. "I told you… I want us to have a child—a baby of our own."