The Other Woman in His Shadows - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
You are reading The Other Woman in His Shadows, Chapter 4: Chapter 4. Read more chapters of The Other Woman in His Shadows.
Shairine feigned a shy glance in my direction before turning to Yves. "You know Jason and I were childhood sweethearts, right? Even after all our breakups and makeups, there's still something between us."
She sighed dramatically. "I was the one who suggested we split last time, but now I want to make things right. Will you two help me win him back?"
If this were my past life, I would've snapped that Jason loved me, that he'd never take her back. But I knew better now. I'd seen the truth—how much he cared for her, how they were always meant to be.
"Of course," Yves said casually. "Honestly, it's obvious Jason's still into you. If you confess, he'll say yes in a heartbeat."
A smug smile curled Shairine's lips as she shot me a victorious look. I stayed silent, unfazed.
Two days later, Yves and Jason's friends orchestrated the perfect confession setup. They believed real feelings showed in moments of crisis, so they planned a whitewater rafting trip at a mountain stream.
When we arrived, I hesitated—I couldn't swim. But Shairine grabbed my wrist, dragging me onto the raft.
Terrified of water, she clung to Jason like a lifeline. Yves, playing along, scooted beside me to give them space.
As the raft drifted, Shairine practically threw herself into Jason's arms. Instead of pushing her away, he held her close, murmuring, "Don't worry, I've got you." His voice was tender, soothing—like he used to speak to me in the early days of our marriage.
A memory flashed: me, hopeful, pouring myself into our home, only to overhear him drunkenly complain to Shairine, "I didn't marry a wife—I married a nanny. She suffocates me. You're the only one who gets me."
Before I could dwell on it, another raft slammed into ours. The impact sent me reeling. I reached for Yves, but someone yanked my arm—hard.
The next thing I knew, I was underwater, choking on icy currents, flailing helplessly. Through the blur, I saw Jason leap off the raft.
For a split second, hope surged—until he swam right past me, straight to Shairine.
Pathetic, Zoey. What did you expect?
I almost laughed, but the water stole my breath. Luckily, Yves hauled me to shore.
Still shaking, I barely registered his words: "The confession's ready. Let's go watch."
He pulled me to a grassy clearing where Jason's friends had laid out a massive heart of flowers, filled with love letters, photos, and gifts from their past. Jason stood there, dripping, stunned.
Shairine stepped forward, bouquet in hand, pouring her heart out.
A breeze stirred, but my heart stayed still. This is how it should be.
When the crowd erupted—"Say yes! Be together!"—I joined in, clapping and cheering.
Jason whipped around, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Zoey, are you out of your mind? Did you forget I'm your boyfriend?"
She sighed dramatically. "I was the one who suggested we split last time, but now I want to make things right. Will you two help me win him back?"
If this were my past life, I would've snapped that Jason loved me, that he'd never take her back. But I knew better now. I'd seen the truth—how much he cared for her, how they were always meant to be.
"Of course," Yves said casually. "Honestly, it's obvious Jason's still into you. If you confess, he'll say yes in a heartbeat."
A smug smile curled Shairine's lips as she shot me a victorious look. I stayed silent, unfazed.
Two days later, Yves and Jason's friends orchestrated the perfect confession setup. They believed real feelings showed in moments of crisis, so they planned a whitewater rafting trip at a mountain stream.
When we arrived, I hesitated—I couldn't swim. But Shairine grabbed my wrist, dragging me onto the raft.
Terrified of water, she clung to Jason like a lifeline. Yves, playing along, scooted beside me to give them space.
As the raft drifted, Shairine practically threw herself into Jason's arms. Instead of pushing her away, he held her close, murmuring, "Don't worry, I've got you." His voice was tender, soothing—like he used to speak to me in the early days of our marriage.
A memory flashed: me, hopeful, pouring myself into our home, only to overhear him drunkenly complain to Shairine, "I didn't marry a wife—I married a nanny. She suffocates me. You're the only one who gets me."
Before I could dwell on it, another raft slammed into ours. The impact sent me reeling. I reached for Yves, but someone yanked my arm—hard.
The next thing I knew, I was underwater, choking on icy currents, flailing helplessly. Through the blur, I saw Jason leap off the raft.
For a split second, hope surged—until he swam right past me, straight to Shairine.
Pathetic, Zoey. What did you expect?
I almost laughed, but the water stole my breath. Luckily, Yves hauled me to shore.
Still shaking, I barely registered his words: "The confession's ready. Let's go watch."
He pulled me to a grassy clearing where Jason's friends had laid out a massive heart of flowers, filled with love letters, photos, and gifts from their past. Jason stood there, dripping, stunned.
Shairine stepped forward, bouquet in hand, pouring her heart out.
A breeze stirred, but my heart stayed still. This is how it should be.
When the crowd erupted—"Say yes! Be together!"—I joined in, clapping and cheering.
Jason whipped around, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Zoey, are you out of your mind? Did you forget I'm your boyfriend?"
End of The Other Woman in His Shadows Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to The Other Woman in His Shadows book page.