The Housewife's Return To Her Alluring Prime - Chapter 12: Chapter 12

I never called myself the prettiest girl on campus, but I was nominated for it once in college. Later, I lost to another girl from a wealthier family—not that I cared, though it gave the gossip mill plenty to churn over.
"The runner-up belle," I said with a self-deprecating smile.
The man hosting us was Lloyd Johnson, dressed in a tailored suit that screamed corporate success.
People crowded around him, laying on the praise. He wore the smug look of a man who'd made it, though his gaze kept flickering to me.
Truth was, only Melissa knew I'd married Jared. The rest just assumed I had a rich husband and left it at that.
"Victoria!" A voice cut through the chatter. I turned to see the class loudmouth—a guy who'd once tried to date me.
I used to skip these reunions back then. It wasn't hard to feel insecure when everyone else had successful careers while I stayed home. My bank account might have been full, but not my sense of self-worth.
A black Mercedes-Maybach rolled to a stop nearby, just as a group of people emerged from the lobby entrance.
At the front was a young man—tall and lean, probably over six feet—in a tailored navy suit and gold-framed glasses. When he heard that guy call out my name, he stopped mid-step and turned to look at me.
The vintage-style lights above the door cast a glow over his face, and for a brief moment, our eyes met.
"Mr. Hallman, what a pleasure to meet you!" Lloyd nearly stumbled in his haste to approach. "Hello, Mr. Hallman, I'm Lloyd Johnson from Luminovate Tech—we met several weeks ago." He scrambled to pull out a business card and offered it with both hands.
The man addressed as "Mr. Hallman" nodded and took the card. "Hello," he said.
Then, without warning, his gaze flicked toward me before he slid into the Maybach.
I'd been watching him the whole time. Not that I could help it—amid a crowd of unremarkable men, a face that handsome was impossible to ignore.
Lloyd practically tripped over himself to close the car door, his farewell wave oozing false charm.
Melissa's lingering crush on Lloyd vanished the moment she saw him turn into such a suck-up.
The dinner table became a stage for male bravado while we women ate in comfortable silence.
"I'm a stay-at-home mom," I answered when asked about work. Then the conversation died right there.
When Jared called halfway through dinner, I let my phone vibrate itself into silence.
When someone eagerly proposed moving the party to a karaoke bar, Melissa and I declined with polite excuses and made our escape.
I helped Melissa all the way into her apartment, where she collapsed on the sofa with unexpected clarity. "Maybe you were smart to marry young, Victoria. These days I can't stand any man. Should've grabbed someone when I had the chance."
"Don't be ridiculous," I said. "Men aren't that special—same basic parts as the rest of us. Plenty of good ones left." With that pep talk delivered, I headed home.
The car hummed with music, and without a care weighing me down, I felt completely at peace.
Hearing the men discuss their careers today, I realized with sudden clarity—I deserved that same confidence, that equal seat at the table.
Jared called again as soon as I got home. I answered while sinking into the couch.
"Why weren't you answering your phone?" Jared's suspicion bled through the line.
"Must've been on silent. What's up?" The lie came automatically now.
"Who were you out with? Yvonne said you went out again." He might as well have been taking attendance.
"Just some college friends," I said lightly. "They're all doing well here. Thought I'd reconnect before starting work."
He seemed to turn my answer over in his head before responding. "You've changed lately. What's going on?"
"Changed how?" I toyed with my hair, suddenly recalling my younger self—the one who wanted to burn bright, not fade into someone's background.
"You're dressing differently these days," Jared said, proving he noticed every detail about me.
"Don't I look good?" I asked with a playful smirk.
"You look fine. Just not... dignified enough." He was never one to mince words.
"Dignified?" I barked a laugh. "Those wedding vows about loving me unconditionally—were those just empty promises?"
The silence on his end was satisfying. "I never said it was bad," he finally offered after a loaded pause.
"Was there anything else? I'm tired." I had zero patience for his critiques tonight.
The line went quiet for a beat. "Fine. Goodbye," he said tightly before the line went dead.
I clutched my phone with a humorless chuckle. Jared was always perfectly composed, the genteel husband who never raised his voice. But that same restraint made him emotionally sterile.
The truth had always been simple—women mirrored what they were given. Coldness turned them to ice. Passion set them ablaze.
In college, I used to radiate joy, always smiling, always bright. That changed when I married Jared. The real smiles disappeared, replaced by careful words and actions tailored to his expectations.
"Madam, I've made some gruel," Wendy offered softly. "Would you care for a bowl?"
"Yes, thank you." I drew a steadying breath. This was the day I'd stop playing a role and start being myself again.
I slept deeply that night until the nightmare came at dawn.
In my dream, I died again, experiencing the same helpless terror and crushing despair. I woke gasping, the sheets damp with sweat.
I stumbled barefoot to the bathroom mirror, pressing my palms against the sink until my reflection—young, unmarked—convinced me I was safe.
The phone rang as I was having breakfast. It was from a charity representative.
"Ms. Murphy, the student you sponsored before would like to take you to lunch. If you're available, of course," the person said.
I paused with my spoon halfway to my mouth. "That's odd. I can't quite recall."
"Five years ago," the voice said warmly, "when you volunteered with us, you donated 250 thousand to help that college student after his family went bankrupt. Do you remember?"
The old memory came rushing back. "Oh, that. But we signed an NDA. How did he get my name?"
"Ms. Murphy..." The voice turned apologetic. "He formally requested your contact through proper channels. If this causes you any trouble, we'll handle it."
"I'll pass on the lunch," I replied. "Just tell him I'm happy being a Good Samaritan. No thanks necessary." With that, I ended the call.
Yet I felt strangely moved. That he remembered suggested maybe the world wasn't completely rotten.