The Housewife's Return To Her Alluring Prime - Chapter 75: Chapter 75
You are reading The Housewife's Return To Her Alluring Prime, Chapter 75: Chapter 75. Read more chapters of The Housewife's Return To Her Alluring Prime.
Jared got sentimental, which was so unlike him that it threw me off balance.
I stared, my usual quick-witted deflections failing me. Of all the things I'd prepared for, him asking if I still cared wasn't one of them. I'd assumed indifference was our unspoken agreement.
"Seriously? You're overcomplicating things," I said, forcing a smirk.
A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. "You've been different since you said you were going back to work."
"Different how? I'm the same person." I tilted my head, playing dumb.
"I can't pinpoint it, but you're not the same." Jared was a master at keeping people at arm's length, but he had a razor-sharp intuition. Apparently, he'd picked up on the fact that I'd stopped loving him.
"You're imagining things. I've just been busy, that's all." I threw his old excuse back at him, my voice flat.
He looked even more upset. He pressed his lips into a thin line and said nothing.
A cold, quiet laugh bubbled inside me. Wasn't he the one who'd declared love irrelevant? Now he wanted to rewrite the rules? If love was optional, he sure as hell didn't get to demand it now.
"Victoria, I'm sorry for what I said before." The car glided smoothly down the boulevard, and after a few blocks, Jared actually apologized.
"What exactly are you sorry for?" I snapped back reflexively.
"For saying love didn't matter. For trying to buy... intimacy." He fell silent again, his eyes fixed on the road as if his thoughts were scrolling across the windshield.
Finally, he turned, his gaze locking onto mine. "I read something interesting the other day. It said there are only two things in life you can't half-ass."
I stared at him like he'd just sprouted horns. Jared? Giving a TED Talk on emotional priorities? Since when?
He turned toward the passenger window, his voice dropping. "One: find the right career. Two: find the right person.
"While the sun's up, you pour everything into your work. But when it sets, you go home and wrap your arms around the one you love. Purpose and belonging—you need both. One's your validation. The other's your anchor."
My eyes went wide, glued to his profile. This was not the Jared I knew. When had he had time to wax philosophical? Unless... had he also jumped back from 2044?
But no—he hadn't died in my previous life. After my own heart stopped, he was probably busy throwing Tracy the blowout wedding she'd always wanted. Yvonne would've been in the front row, sobbing happy tears and hugging Tracy, shouting "Mom!" in front of everyone.
My death had simply cleared the runway for their perfect takeoff. Thinking about it sent an arctic wave through me—palms, soles, every inch of skin turned to ice.
So whatever mushy epiphany Jared was having about "go home and wrap your arms around the one you love," it had to be a glitch in his brain.
He noticed my silence and angled toward me. "What do you think?" His tone carried that old challenge.
I let my smile curl, slow and deliberate. "You know what they say about forests? They don't pledge allegiance to seasons. They bloom or rot. Doesn't matter if it's spring or hell."
Jared's brows knitted. "Just spit it out," he said curtly. He was definitely the bossy type.
I shrugged. "Love me, don't love me—I let the dice roll. Not overthinking it."
His pupils flared. Lately, he'd been prodding at me, testing for residual feelings. I felt it. Back in the original timeline, he'd been one foot out the door. But since I'd started rewriting the script? That foot was creeping back inside.
Typical man. Wanted the steak and the sizzle and the side of fries.
Tracy was gorgeous, all sparkle and hustle, and she'd spent years sharpening Jared's company into a weapon he loved to wield. No way he'd toss that multitool aside.
Me? I was the wife on paper. If we hadn't had a kid, I'm sure Jared would've filed a polite, lawyer-smooth divorce—no guilt included.
He could pay "sorry-about-your-twenties" money without blinking. The only reason I was still wearing the ring? I'd given him a daughter.
Jared doesn't burn bridges; it's not in his wiring. Maybe that was what I'd gambled on in my previous life—his residual decency. He's polished, charismatic, and as long as he isn't cruel, I'd bet he wouldn't divorce me.
I don't hate him. I hate myself. Nothing murders love like indecision, and I'd turned hesitation into a goddamn masterpiece. I'd dragged him—worse, I'd dragged myself. "Heavy" doesn't scratch the surface.
I was the one who refused to let go of him or of the ghost I'd become. Every mistake traced back to my death-grip on a fantasy. But no more. Time to set a new target: become a high-powered, over-educated force of nature.
My careless shrug landed like a blade between his ribs. "Let the dice roll" meant "I don't care. You can love me or hate me, do whatever you want."
Jared was sharp. He'd get the message. I knew he would.
Silence crashed down inside the car, thick as a Midwestern snowstorm. My pulse started tap-dancing against my ribs. Am I already wobbling off the path I just drew for myself?
Melissa's plan echoed in my head: reel him back in, milk the sympathy, then hit him with divorce papers at the exact emotional peak and walk away loaded. Yet here I was, letting my mouth run in the opposite direction.
Would Jared actually sniff out my real agenda and just... calmly serve me papers with a polite alimony check? Fine. Earth keeps spinning without him.
Nathan's eyes from this morning flashed across my mind. A single girl's high-quality rebound shouldn't count as fickle, right?
We pulled up to the restaurant. I figured Jared would bail on me the second the engine died. I swung the door open, and a kid on a bike shot past.
Before I could flinch, a big hand snagged my waist and yanked me backward. "Watch it," Jared snapped, voice low against my ear.
I blinked, realizing I was plastered against his chest. He looked down, scolding. "Daydreaming again?"
My heart kicked—not from the rescue, but because my brain had just fast-forwarded to Nathan, shirt half-unbuttoned against a hotel headboard. Heat crawled up my neck.
Jared's gaze lingered on my flushed cheeks for two long seconds before he let go.
My outfit today was all business. In my previous life, I'd never dressed like this; I'd never held a real job, and anything this polished felt like playing dress-up.
Turns out, when you've got the figure and the face, a power suit turns into armor—confidence tailor-made, and yeah, men stare.
Tracy's group rounded the corner. Her smile was set to "social," but her eyes were ice. If Jared had shifted even one degree off his usual orbit, Tracy would be the first to feel the tremor.
Before, she'd looked straight through me. Now I caught the first flicker of pure dislike—maybe even hate. Hate me? Fine. Let's give her something to really hate.
I took two steps and let my ankle roll. "Ow—" I hissed, catching the wall. My cheeks flamed; beads of sweat dotted my forehead.
Jared, mid-handshake with some executives, snapped around at the sound. He closed the distance in three strides. "What happened?"
"Twisted it," I muttered, bending to inspect the damage.
His gaze dropped to the seven-inch stilettos, needle-thin. His jaw tightened. "Next time, skip the skyscrapers."
"Honey, don't worry about me," I said, layering on the sugar. "Go on up. I'll be fine in a minute."
Jared flicked a quick glance at the small crowd behind him. "Head on inside. We'll catch up."
Tracy's eyes went wide—if looks could slap, I'd be tasting blood. Come on, girl, I thought. We both know this song and dance.
In the life I'd already lived, I'd sworn Jared was selectively blind: Tracy could bat her lashes and fake a fainting spell, and he'd buy it wholesale. Now I'd tested the theory—turns out, he's just as blind when I'm the one performing.
"I'm carrying you upstairs," Jared said. No vote, no debate. Before I could object, he bent and scooped me up like I weighed less than his laptop.
I stared, my usual quick-witted deflections failing me. Of all the things I'd prepared for, him asking if I still cared wasn't one of them. I'd assumed indifference was our unspoken agreement.
"Seriously? You're overcomplicating things," I said, forcing a smirk.
A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. "You've been different since you said you were going back to work."
"Different how? I'm the same person." I tilted my head, playing dumb.
"I can't pinpoint it, but you're not the same." Jared was a master at keeping people at arm's length, but he had a razor-sharp intuition. Apparently, he'd picked up on the fact that I'd stopped loving him.
"You're imagining things. I've just been busy, that's all." I threw his old excuse back at him, my voice flat.
He looked even more upset. He pressed his lips into a thin line and said nothing.
A cold, quiet laugh bubbled inside me. Wasn't he the one who'd declared love irrelevant? Now he wanted to rewrite the rules? If love was optional, he sure as hell didn't get to demand it now.
"Victoria, I'm sorry for what I said before." The car glided smoothly down the boulevard, and after a few blocks, Jared actually apologized.
"What exactly are you sorry for?" I snapped back reflexively.
"For saying love didn't matter. For trying to buy... intimacy." He fell silent again, his eyes fixed on the road as if his thoughts were scrolling across the windshield.
Finally, he turned, his gaze locking onto mine. "I read something interesting the other day. It said there are only two things in life you can't half-ass."
I stared at him like he'd just sprouted horns. Jared? Giving a TED Talk on emotional priorities? Since when?
He turned toward the passenger window, his voice dropping. "One: find the right career. Two: find the right person.
"While the sun's up, you pour everything into your work. But when it sets, you go home and wrap your arms around the one you love. Purpose and belonging—you need both. One's your validation. The other's your anchor."
My eyes went wide, glued to his profile. This was not the Jared I knew. When had he had time to wax philosophical? Unless... had he also jumped back from 2044?
But no—he hadn't died in my previous life. After my own heart stopped, he was probably busy throwing Tracy the blowout wedding she'd always wanted. Yvonne would've been in the front row, sobbing happy tears and hugging Tracy, shouting "Mom!" in front of everyone.
My death had simply cleared the runway for their perfect takeoff. Thinking about it sent an arctic wave through me—palms, soles, every inch of skin turned to ice.
So whatever mushy epiphany Jared was having about "go home and wrap your arms around the one you love," it had to be a glitch in his brain.
He noticed my silence and angled toward me. "What do you think?" His tone carried that old challenge.
I let my smile curl, slow and deliberate. "You know what they say about forests? They don't pledge allegiance to seasons. They bloom or rot. Doesn't matter if it's spring or hell."
Jared's brows knitted. "Just spit it out," he said curtly. He was definitely the bossy type.
I shrugged. "Love me, don't love me—I let the dice roll. Not overthinking it."
His pupils flared. Lately, he'd been prodding at me, testing for residual feelings. I felt it. Back in the original timeline, he'd been one foot out the door. But since I'd started rewriting the script? That foot was creeping back inside.
Typical man. Wanted the steak and the sizzle and the side of fries.
Tracy was gorgeous, all sparkle and hustle, and she'd spent years sharpening Jared's company into a weapon he loved to wield. No way he'd toss that multitool aside.
Me? I was the wife on paper. If we hadn't had a kid, I'm sure Jared would've filed a polite, lawyer-smooth divorce—no guilt included.
He could pay "sorry-about-your-twenties" money without blinking. The only reason I was still wearing the ring? I'd given him a daughter.
Jared doesn't burn bridges; it's not in his wiring. Maybe that was what I'd gambled on in my previous life—his residual decency. He's polished, charismatic, and as long as he isn't cruel, I'd bet he wouldn't divorce me.
I don't hate him. I hate myself. Nothing murders love like indecision, and I'd turned hesitation into a goddamn masterpiece. I'd dragged him—worse, I'd dragged myself. "Heavy" doesn't scratch the surface.
I was the one who refused to let go of him or of the ghost I'd become. Every mistake traced back to my death-grip on a fantasy. But no more. Time to set a new target: become a high-powered, over-educated force of nature.
My careless shrug landed like a blade between his ribs. "Let the dice roll" meant "I don't care. You can love me or hate me, do whatever you want."
Jared was sharp. He'd get the message. I knew he would.
Silence crashed down inside the car, thick as a Midwestern snowstorm. My pulse started tap-dancing against my ribs. Am I already wobbling off the path I just drew for myself?
Melissa's plan echoed in my head: reel him back in, milk the sympathy, then hit him with divorce papers at the exact emotional peak and walk away loaded. Yet here I was, letting my mouth run in the opposite direction.
Would Jared actually sniff out my real agenda and just... calmly serve me papers with a polite alimony check? Fine. Earth keeps spinning without him.
Nathan's eyes from this morning flashed across my mind. A single girl's high-quality rebound shouldn't count as fickle, right?
We pulled up to the restaurant. I figured Jared would bail on me the second the engine died. I swung the door open, and a kid on a bike shot past.
Before I could flinch, a big hand snagged my waist and yanked me backward. "Watch it," Jared snapped, voice low against my ear.
I blinked, realizing I was plastered against his chest. He looked down, scolding. "Daydreaming again?"
My heart kicked—not from the rescue, but because my brain had just fast-forwarded to Nathan, shirt half-unbuttoned against a hotel headboard. Heat crawled up my neck.
Jared's gaze lingered on my flushed cheeks for two long seconds before he let go.
My outfit today was all business. In my previous life, I'd never dressed like this; I'd never held a real job, and anything this polished felt like playing dress-up.
Turns out, when you've got the figure and the face, a power suit turns into armor—confidence tailor-made, and yeah, men stare.
Tracy's group rounded the corner. Her smile was set to "social," but her eyes were ice. If Jared had shifted even one degree off his usual orbit, Tracy would be the first to feel the tremor.
Before, she'd looked straight through me. Now I caught the first flicker of pure dislike—maybe even hate. Hate me? Fine. Let's give her something to really hate.
I took two steps and let my ankle roll. "Ow—" I hissed, catching the wall. My cheeks flamed; beads of sweat dotted my forehead.
Jared, mid-handshake with some executives, snapped around at the sound. He closed the distance in three strides. "What happened?"
"Twisted it," I muttered, bending to inspect the damage.
His gaze dropped to the seven-inch stilettos, needle-thin. His jaw tightened. "Next time, skip the skyscrapers."
"Honey, don't worry about me," I said, layering on the sugar. "Go on up. I'll be fine in a minute."
Jared flicked a quick glance at the small crowd behind him. "Head on inside. We'll catch up."
Tracy's eyes went wide—if looks could slap, I'd be tasting blood. Come on, girl, I thought. We both know this song and dance.
In the life I'd already lived, I'd sworn Jared was selectively blind: Tracy could bat her lashes and fake a fainting spell, and he'd buy it wholesale. Now I'd tested the theory—turns out, he's just as blind when I'm the one performing.
"I'm carrying you upstairs," Jared said. No vote, no debate. Before I could object, he bent and scooped me up like I weighed less than his laptop.
End of The Housewife's Return To Her Alluring Prime Chapter 75. Continue reading Chapter 76 or return to The Housewife's Return To Her Alluring Prime book page.