Facade of Love

Chapter 3

Chapter 3 Despicable

Moore’s pupils darted around the room before landing back on me in a panic. Then, she lowered her voice and asked angrily, “You and Iddy were on a call?”

I looked up at her, feigning innocence, and nodded. “Yes, I must’ve accidentally dialed him just before you arrived.”

“You…”

Seeing her flushed and angry face, my mood improved considerably. The call had not been disconnected, but the man on the other end was not saying anything. After quite some time, his subdued voice came through. “If it’s nothing important, I’ll hang up now.”

He had just listened to Moore’s plea for me to divorce him as if it was entertainment.

After I hung up, Moore glared at me. “Yvette Scott, you’re despicable.”

Despicable?

I looked at her and smiled. “Moore, do you not understand what the word ‘despicable‘ means? You’re standing in my house, and the man you just arrogantly told me to leave is my legally wedded

husband. How are you calling me despicable?”

“Yvette, Idris loves me!” She was really angry now. She glared at me, every fiber in her b*dy desperate to convince me that Idris loved her.

I nodded, not intending to refute her at all. Then, I pointed to the door and dropped my smile. “The door’s over there. Take your time as I won’t be seeing you out.”

It seemed she was still unwilling to give in as she glared at me. “Yvette, why are you so arrogant? If I hadn’t gotten married back then, what right would you have had to marry Iddy? You’re just a cold, silly monster. Iddy would never even spare you a second glance…”

I did not want to drive her out, but she was just too irritating. I could not stop myself from getting up to push her out of the house.

After closing the door, I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on. Life with Idris was becoming increasingly uninteresting.

Since I had slept too much during the day, I could not fall asleep that night. This was a prime example of how one could mess up one’s sleep schedule.

Idris did not return home until one in the morning. Hearing the engine roar from the yard surprised me. Considering Moore had fought with me today, knowing her temper, it was probably not easy for her to allow Idris to come back home.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Idris changed into his house sl*ppers at the entrance and hung his coat up on the rack as he asked.

Tapping the tablet in my hand, I responded softly, “Slept too much during the day.”

The couch beside me sank in a little as the man’s slender b*dy sat down next to me. He glanced at the tablet in my hand, his eyebrows slightly furrowing. “Thinking about redecorating the house?”

His warm breath brushed against my ear, tickling me a little. I put down the tablet and glanced at him out of the corner of my eyes. “Do I have your permission for it?”

He looked indifferent and nodded. “The house is yours too. You have the right to decide how to

decorate it.‘

>>

Then, he glanced at his wristwatch and stood up. “It’s late. Go to bed.”

Watching his retreating figure, I could not quite gauge his emotions. He bought and decorated this house while he and Moore were passionately in love. How could he so easily agree to redecorating it, erasing all traces of their past love?

Over the past two years, I had gotten comfortable living here, so I did not pay much attention to the decor. However, Moore had irked me today, so I wanted to change everything up just to spite her.

Idris was not in the bedroom when I entered it, but there was the sound of running water coming from the bathroom, so he was probably taking a shower.

I made the bed and lay down, starting to scroll through videos.

Not long after, Idris came out of the bathroom. He had always maintained a good physique. With a

towel tied around his waist, all that could be seen were the well–built muscles of his torso. His tanned

skin made him look a little rugged, giving him a powerful aura.

I had been scrolling through videos, but could not resist looking at the handsome man standing before me. Probably sensing my gaze, he looked at me. Then, as he walked over, he tossed the towel in his hand to me and indifferently said, “Dry my hair.”

I said, “Huh?”

I was a bit stunned. Over the past two years, besides essential communication, we hardly spoke half a

sentence more than needed. Asking for such an intimate favor, like drying each other’s hair, seemed

so alien.

He had already sat on the bed. I hesitated for a few seconds but eventually got up and kneeled beside

him to dry his hair.

His hair was short and thick, but it dried rather quickly.

I prepared to lie down again after putting down the towel, only to be pulled into his arms gently. I was a bit stunned. Meeting his dark eyes, I stuttered, “Idr… is?”

Despite my confusion and panic, he made everything feel natural. Two years into our marital life, there were things we both understood about each other without having to say so.

Knowing what he would do next, I complied, as always.

However, when his large hand slid up to my abdomen, everything seemed to freeze. I sensed that something was wrong, so I looked up at him. ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

“What’s… wrong?”

Enjoy Ad–Free Reading>>