The Marriage She Turned into War novel Chapter 316

I asked the question cautiously, trying to gauge Abigail's reaction.

But, as expected, she didn't even flinch. She just smiled faintly and answered, her voice as calm as ever, "I didn't go anywhere. I've been at the office all day. Why do you ask?"

Her nonchalance stung, but I didn't push it. Bringing it up would only stir unnecessary drama if she didn't know about my meeting with Sophia. The last thing I needed was another argument over something I could avoid.

"Why are you asking?" Abigail tilted her head, her playful tone masking an edge. "Did you do something behind my back? Like meeting someone I wouldn't like?"

Her words cut straight to the point, sharp and deliberate.

I felt a flicker of panic as a knot tightened in my chest. Forcing a smile, I tried to laugh it off. "No, of course not."

"Good." She nodded, her expression softening into something almost tender. "Don't disappoint me, Samuel. You know how much I love you. If you ever did something I couldn't accept, it would break my heart."

Her words were a clear warning cloaked in sweetness.

I kept my smile steady. "I understand."

After dinner, she took my hand and led me to the bedroom. Later, as we lay tangled together, she rested her head on my shoulder, her voice soft and warm.

"Samuel, your birthday's coming up. Is there anything special you'd like as a gift?"

I shook my head lightly, keeping my tone easy. "I'm not picky. Whatever you pick, I'm sure I'll like it."

Her words hit like a bucket of cold water.

So, that was it. Abigail hadn't remembered. She hadn't planned this. Everything—the gestures, the surface-level kindness—was just me projecting what I wished for.

My foolish hope had created this moment, and now, its reality has left me hollow.

I let out a quiet, bitter laugh and pushed down the last shred of expectation I'd been holding onto. It was my mistake to think things could be different.

I thanked Jane and ate the pasta in silence, the weight of my thoughts pressing heavily on my chest.

Once I was done, I took my bowl to the sink and quietly retreated to the guest room before burying myself in my work.