After Richard had left, I sat down, my mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The silence of the room felt deafening, amplifying the turmoil within me. Why would a woman harbor so much hatred for her husband
I thought about my own past life, how I had always longed for the attention and affection of my husband, Anthony. The memories flooded back, bittersweet and poignant. Anthony and I had married under circumstances that were far from ideal. Our union was arranged by our families, and while I had hoped for love to blossom, it had never quite happened. I was not from a wealthy family, but I was left with a substantial inheritance. My husband had married me with the intention of gaining control of this inheritance. This bitter truth had come to light before the horrifying incident when my stepsister and Anthony had pushed me off the cliff. My life had been marked by struggle and rejection. I had always carried a scar on my face, a disfigurement that had marred my self-esteem and social interactions. This scar was a constant reminder of my perceived inadequacies and the cruel jokes of others, especially my stepsister. She had always ridiculed me, using my scar as a weapon to undermine my confidence. Her beauty and charm were everything I lacked, and she never missed an opportunity to flaunt it. Seeing Anthony with her had always been a dagger to my heart. The intimate moments they shared, the stolen glances, and the whispered conversations had driven me to the brink of despair. Whenever I confronted Anthony about his infidelity, he would respond with violence, beating me into submission. The pain was not just physical; it was emotional and psychological, eroding my sense of self-worth. As I sat there, lost in my thoughts, I suddenly felt a kick in my stomach. Startled, I looked down and realized the undeniable truth. "Oh, I'm pregnant," I whispered to myself, placing a hand on my swollen belly. I made a silent prayer to God and asked for this not to be a dream. After the silent prayer, I decided to explore the house, wanting to familiarize myself with my surroundings. Not knowing whom to call upon for help, I relied on my instincts and retraced the path I had taken earlier. I walked down the stairs, through the corridor, and started observing the various rooms. I found a library, its shelves filled with books of all genres, creating an atmosphere of knowledge and tranquility. I also discovered the guest room, neatly arranged and welcoming, along with several other rooms, each holding its own unique charm and purpose. The house was vast and filled with luxurious décor. After my sightseeing tour, I eventually made my way back downstairs. There, I saw my son's nanny, who was busily scribbling something on a piece of paper. Curious and seeking interaction, I approached her and gently tapped her on the shoulder. She nearly jumped out of her skin, her reaction one of sheer fright. I looked at her, puzzled by her fear. "Can you please take me to the kitchen? I want to make something for my son," I asked, my voice calm and gentle. The woman stared at me, confusion etched on her face. "But you have never cooked before," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. "Yes, I guess I can now," I responded, attempting to reassure her. Reluctantly, she shook her head and gestured for me to follow. "This way, ma'am," she said, leading me down the hallway to the kitchen. Once we arrived, she stood by the entrance, watching me intently. I decided to prepare a simple meal of toast and eggs. As I worked, I could feel her eyes on me, filled with surprise and suspicion. It was clear that my presence in the kitchen was not a normal, like something that had never happened before. I turned to look at her, noticing the way she eyed me warily, as if she expected me to do something drastic or dangerous. Despite her distrust, I continued with my task, determined to show her that I could handle this small, domestic chore. The kitchen was a modern marvel, equipped with the latest appliances and an abundance of ingredients. I quickly found everything I needed and began cooking. The process was surprisingly soothing, the repetitive motions and familiar scents grounding me in the present moment. As the aroma of freshly cooked food filled the air, the nanny's expression softened slightly. She still watched me closely, but there was a hint of curiosity mingled with her suspicion. I finished preparing the meal and plated it neatly, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. "Would you like to try some?" I offered, hoping to bridge the gap between us with a gesture of kindness. She hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, her eyes flicking between the plate and my face. "Thank you, ma'am," she said softly, taking a small bite. Her eyes widened in surprise, and I could see her trying to reconcile this new version of me with the one she had known before. As I stood there, waiting for her reaction, I couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something new. She took a bite, her eyes widening in surprise. "Ma'am, how did you learn to cook? You never even knew how to boil an egg," she said, astonishment clear in her voice. I smiled, feeling a strange mix of amusement and bewilderment. "I really have no idea. It's as if I woke up with some kind of superpowers or something," I replied, laughing softly at the absurdity of it all. Knowing fully well that the kitchen was my place of solace in my past life I guess cooking actually helped me in this present life which I was grateful for After the nanny had been served, she quickly excused herself to call my son. He came running from his playroom downstairs, his small feet pounding against the steps. "Don't run on the stairs, sweetheart," I called out, my voice tinged with concern. Once my son was seated and happily munching on his meal, I turned to the nanny, who was already halfway through her own plate. "Do you know where my husband might be?" I asked. With her mouth still full, she mumbled, "He’s probably in his study." "Where is the study?" I pressed, eager to find him despite the unease gnawing at my insides. The nanny pointed towards a dark pathway down the hall. "Just follow that way, ma'am. It's the first door you see." Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and walked towards the indicated path. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, shadows dancing on the walls. With every step, the sense of foreboding grew, but I knew I had to do this. Finally, I stopped in front of the first door, as the nanny had instructed. I stood there for a moment, gathering my courage, before gently knocking on the door.As I stood by the study door waiting for an answer, the silence stretched on, making the seconds feel like hours. When no response came, I cautiously entered the room. There, I saw Richard engrossed in writing in a journal. Taking a deep breath, I called his name softly. He continued to ignore me; his focus unwavering. Gathering courage, I moved closer and gently touched his shoulder. Startled, he turned around quickly, his expression shifting from surprise to irritation when he saw it was me. "What are you doing here?" he asked coldly. "Did we not agree to stay out of each other's way?" I stammered, trying to find my words. "I just came to tell you that I cooked. Do you want some?" Richard's eyes filled with contempt as he looked at me. He turned back to his journal without a word. After a moment, he glanced back up, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You cooked? You? Even if I believed anything you said, the idea that you cooked is laughable. You're just a cheating liar. His
I looked down at my son's disappointed face, my heart ached. His excitement to go out had turned sour after the nanny said my husband had prohibited me from going out. Wanting so eagerly to lift his spirits, I turned to the nanny. "Could you please call my husband? I need to speak with him," I asked, hoping to reason with him and make him understand that I was not like before. The nanny looked at me, slightly hesitant but finally nodded. "Okay, Ma'am." She retrieved the phone and dialed the number that connected directly to Richard's secretary. After a few rings, a voice that dripped with arrogance answered, "Who is this?" The nanny replied, "This is Mr. Richard's wife. She would like to have a word with him." There was a brief pause at the other end of the phone before the secretary's voice returned, colder than before. "He's busy" she said with that, she hung up. I felt so helpless and frustrated because in my former body I was not restricted from moving around since my h
Though I had been awake for a while, but I immediately closed my eyes tight and pretended to be sleeping as soon as I felt Richard coming awake. He sat up and stared down at me for a few moments, then gently removed his hand from under my head. I kept my breathing even, listening to the sound of his footsteps as he moved to the bathroom. The water ran for a short while, and soon he returned with a wet cloth. He carefully removed the old one from my stomach and replaced it with the fresh, cool towel. His touch was unexpectedly tender, and I fought to keep my eyes closed, savoring this rare moment of affection. After tending to me, Richard quietly left the room. I waited, making sure he was gone, before daring to open my eyes. A smile crept across my face. It had been so long since I had felt such care and attention from anyone, let alone a man. The memory of his gentle touch filled me with tingling butterflies in my belly. Trying to seat up on the bead, when I heard a sof
I woke up early, the first rays of dawn barely touching the horizon, to prepare breakfast since I was not able to sleep. I busied myself in the kitchen, and by the time the rest of the house began to stir, breakfast was ready. I had prepared a simple yet hearty meal of apple pie and some pancakes for Tommy. As I was setting the table, I heard footsteps descending the stairs. Looking up, I saw Richard and Tommy coming down together. My heart beat very fast in my chest, like I was running a race. I stared at Richard’s face, and I felt my legs tremble. He was so cute, even with the way his hair was tousled, he still looked good. I guess I was staring for too long. When Richard looked towards me and caught me looking, I quickly averted my gaze as my cheeks burned in embarrassment. At that moment, if there was another word for embarrassment, that was what I was feeling. I felt as if the ground should open up and swallow me whole. My cheeks burned with shame and turned crimson
"What?" I exclaimed, unable to hide my shock. My son's eyes welled up with tears as he looked at me with an expectant gaze. "Yes, Mom, I’ve seen other parents doing it. I want you and Dad to kiss so I know you're not fighting." I was taken aback, standing there in stunned silence How could I explain to him the complexity of the situation? I had never even kissed my own husband from my past life, except on the day we wed, which was just a light kiss that barely touched my lips. And now, I was supposed to ask Richard to kiss me just because our son requested it. Just yesterday, I had caught Richard in an incredibly embarrassing situation, a memory that still made my cheeks flush with humiliation. But I wanted to make my son happy, and looking at his expectant face, I didn’t want to disappoint him. So, I made a big decision at that moment. I held Tommy's hand, and together we left the kitchen and went upstairs to Richard's room. Nervously, I knocked on the door. "Who is
"Don't 'Ava' me, Richard. Where have you been? Why do you smell like alcohol?" My voice trembled as I confronted him, but he just stared back silently, his eyes distant. "Alright then," I muttered, my heart pounding. "Since you won't answer me, I'll do this my way." I grabbed his hand and led him to the bed, pushing him onto it and climbing on top of him. My breath hitched as I pressed my lips against his, trying to deepen the kiss, but he resisted. Each rejection stung, and tears threatened to spill, but I held them back. I refused to let Richard see me as weak, like my ex-husband had. Standing up, I began to undo the buttons of my nightgown, my fingers trembling. "Ava, what do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to seduce me? If so, I’m not falling for the temptation of a loose woman." he spits out his eyes bearing no emotions. His words cut deep, but I knew there was no turning back. I undid the last button and, after a few shaky breaths, let the fabric slip off my body
I woke up the next morning to a familiar, tantalizing sensation. Richard was moving rhythmically inside me, his touch igniting every nerve in my body. I opened my eyes to find him gazing down at me with an intensity that made my heart race. His eyes were dark with desire, and I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Morning," Richard murmured, his voice thick with sleep and desire. "Morning," I whispered back, a small smile tugging at my lips. His movements were slow and deliberate at first, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through me. I couldn't help but moan softly, the sound escaping my lips unbidden. Richard's breathing grew heavier, matching mine, and the room was filled with the mingling of our breaths and the soft rustling of sheets. As our pace quickened, my moans turned into gasps. "Faster," I urged, my voice barely a whisper. Richard responded to my plea, increasing his speed, his thrusts becoming more urgent and powerful. I became a moaning mess beneath
I had been seated in Richard's office for the past four hours and was already becoming impatient. Like who holds meetings this long? I asked out loud to no one I particular since I was the only one in the room. So in order to keep myself from being bored, I had requested different types of dishes to be served from my husband's office kitchen. It had not even been thirty minutes when the secretary knocked again to let me know the dishes were ready. And I asked her to come in. Almost immediately, she stepped in with some chefs behind her. I was hit by the savory scent of chicken wings, and I could not help but salivate as they served the dishes on my husband's table. At first, the secretary had asked me not to eat on my husband's table, suggesting the designated eating area instead. However, I wanted to prove a point because I had noticed her glaring at me ever since I entered the office with Richard and ordered the food. "But ma'am, Mr. Richard does not like it when his offi