The Night My Husband Was Away - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
You are reading The Night My Husband Was Away, Chapter 3: Chapter 3. Read more chapters of The Night My Husband Was Away.
The doorbell's shrill ring sliced through the thick tension between us like a knife.
I scrambled to smooth my wrinkled nightgown and shoved past Vincent, desperate to escape the bathroom—and whatever had almost happened between us.
His hand remained suspended in the air, fingers slightly curled, as if he could still feel the ghost of my skin beneath them.
Margaret Watson, our nosy neighbor, stood on the doorstep, her sharp gaze already dissecting my appearance.
I sucked in a steadying breath, willing my voice not to shake. "Auntie, is everything all right? It's awfully late."
"Mrs. Chen upstairs called about a fight next door," she said, eyes narrowing. "Then I heard noises from your place. A young wife alone should be more careful."
I forced a smile and widened the door just enough to seem welcoming while scrambling for an excuse. My pulse hammered—what if she smelled the alcohol? Noticed the heat still clinging to my cheeks?
By the time I finally ushered her out, Vincent, Daniel, and Nathan had vanished—like shadows retreating at dawn, slipping silently from my balcony back to their own rooms below.
The whole encounter left me dizzy, my skin still tingling where Vincent had touched me.
Sleep refused to come that night. Or the next.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw them—Vincent's dark, knowing stare, Daniel's rough hands, Nathan's deceptive softness.
I should be ashamed. A married woman shouldn't ache like this.
But my body didn't care about should or shouldn't.
The next afternoon, I wandered the supermarket aisles, desperate for anything to quiet my thoughts.
Then his cologne hit me—spicy and expensive—and my spine went rigid. I didn't need to look to know Vincent stood behind me.
"Shopping alone?" His voice curled around me, teasing.
I kept my eyes locked on the shelf, gripping the cart until my knuckles whitened.
"About last night..." His voice dropped, rough and intimate. "You liked it."
"Stop." I tried to step away, but his fingers closed around my wrist.
"My place is getting renovated tonight," he murmured. "Might be loud. If you can't sleep... you could come over." The offer hung between us, heavy with promise.
Then I spotted Daniel and Nathan rounding the corner, their smirks telling me they'd heard every word.
Humiliation burned through me. I tore free and fled, my cart rattling like my racing heart.
But beneath the shame?
A traitorous thrill.
I scrambled to smooth my wrinkled nightgown and shoved past Vincent, desperate to escape the bathroom—and whatever had almost happened between us.
His hand remained suspended in the air, fingers slightly curled, as if he could still feel the ghost of my skin beneath them.
Margaret Watson, our nosy neighbor, stood on the doorstep, her sharp gaze already dissecting my appearance.
I sucked in a steadying breath, willing my voice not to shake. "Auntie, is everything all right? It's awfully late."
"Mrs. Chen upstairs called about a fight next door," she said, eyes narrowing. "Then I heard noises from your place. A young wife alone should be more careful."
I forced a smile and widened the door just enough to seem welcoming while scrambling for an excuse. My pulse hammered—what if she smelled the alcohol? Noticed the heat still clinging to my cheeks?
By the time I finally ushered her out, Vincent, Daniel, and Nathan had vanished—like shadows retreating at dawn, slipping silently from my balcony back to their own rooms below.
The whole encounter left me dizzy, my skin still tingling where Vincent had touched me.
Sleep refused to come that night. Or the next.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw them—Vincent's dark, knowing stare, Daniel's rough hands, Nathan's deceptive softness.
I should be ashamed. A married woman shouldn't ache like this.
But my body didn't care about should or shouldn't.
The next afternoon, I wandered the supermarket aisles, desperate for anything to quiet my thoughts.
Then his cologne hit me—spicy and expensive—and my spine went rigid. I didn't need to look to know Vincent stood behind me.
"Shopping alone?" His voice curled around me, teasing.
I kept my eyes locked on the shelf, gripping the cart until my knuckles whitened.
"About last night..." His voice dropped, rough and intimate. "You liked it."
"Stop." I tried to step away, but his fingers closed around my wrist.
"My place is getting renovated tonight," he murmured. "Might be loud. If you can't sleep... you could come over." The offer hung between us, heavy with promise.
Then I spotted Daniel and Nathan rounding the corner, their smirks telling me they'd heard every word.
Humiliation burned through me. I tore free and fled, my cart rattling like my racing heart.
But beneath the shame?
A traitorous thrill.
End of The Night My Husband Was Away Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to The Night My Husband Was Away book page.