Semua Bab Love, Lies, and I Do: Bab 71 - Bab 80

The house felt different the day Marcus came home from the hospital. Vanessa had fluffed every pillow, set out his favorite slippers by the door, and made a pot of chicken soup that simmered all afternoon. She had imagined him walking through the door, collapsing into her arms, whispering how much he’d missed her. Instead, Marcus paused in the entryway, nodded at her, and headed straight for the bedroom. He closed the door behind him. It might as well have been made of stone.Vanessa stood in the hallway, a ladle in one hand, blinking hard. She wanted to believe he just needed time. After all, she’d seen the worry lines etched deeper on his face, the way his eyes darted away from hers, as if she were a puzzle he couldn’t quite piece together. But as the days passed, Marcus kept his distance. He ate dinner with her, but only after she called him twice. He answered her questions, but with half-smiles and shrugs. He slept on his side of the bed, back turned, lost in dreams he wouldn’t sh

It had taken a month of whispered planning, secret Pinterest boards, and late-night calls. India and Vanessa wanted this night to be unforgettable—a declaration that love, no matter how tested, could still be celebrated.The city glittered as dusk fell, lights twinkling beneath the glassy skyline. At the heart of it all, inside the crown jewel of downtown hotels, a private penthouse was transformed into a romantic haven. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city’s heartbeat. Candlelight shimmered on every surface, casting gold over white linen and crystal. A string quartet played soft, dreamy songs, and roses adorned every table. The room was set for only four, a world apart from the rest.The ladies had gone all out. Two pearl colored, gleaming Rolls-Royces waited at their respective homes, chauffeurs in crisp uniforms at the ready. India wore a deep sapphire gown that hugged her waist and fluttered at her ankles, her hair was swept into soft waves, and her lips were painted in a bold

The mall’s air was cool and scented with the faint perfume haze of a hundred cosmetics counters, but the atmosphere between Sharon and Leah as they strolled arm in arm was warm, cozy—almost conspiratorial. Their laughter echoed off the marble floors as they zigzagged between stores, their shopping bags swinging with each step.“Sharon, you have to let me do this,” Leah insisted, holding up a gleaming designer purse. The buttery leather caught the light, a soft blush pink, sophisticated and unmistakably expensive. “You’ve done so much for me. I want you to have it.”Sharon put a hand to her chest, eyes wide in mock protest, but it took only a moment before she relented, her lips curving in a pleased, grateful smile. “You spoil me, Leah. You know you don’t have to do all this, but I can’t say no. It’s beautiful.”They laughed again, tucking the bag into one of Sharon’s arms, and continued their leisurely pace. The closeness between them was obvious—Sharon’s hand resting lightly on Leah’

Denver’s hands trembled as he poured black coffee into Marcus’s mug the next morning, the familiar clink and hiss of the kitchen somehow grounding him. The sun was barely up, but the night’s events pressed on his chest like a weight he couldn’t shake.Marcus eyed his friend over the rim of his mug. “You look like you got hit by a truck, man. Didn’t you have a date night with India?”Denver rubbed at his face, the lines of exhaustion deepening. “I thought I did. But it wasn’t India who sent that message. It was my mother. She set me up, Marcus. She wanted me to meet Leah in a hotel room.”He let the words spill out—how Sharon had texted him pretending to be India, how Leah was waiting in lingerie, how everything unraveled in a tangle of old wounds and new betrayal.Marcus’s jaw dropped. “Wait. Ms. Kincaid did what? Your mom set you up to cheat on your wife—with Leah?”Denver nodded miserably. “Leah said she thought I wanted to see her. But the whole thing was Mom’s idea. She’s been try

The first hint of spring danced on the breeze as Denver drove west, the city skyline shrinking in the rearview mirror. India leaned back in the passenger seat, her face turned toward the sun, eyes closed. She looked peaceful, but Denver could sense the tension in her fingers, the way she twisted her wedding ring absently. He reached over, lacing his fingers through hers, and she squeezed back, giving him a small, grateful smile.They were headed away from Denver's family and toward India’s—the Joneses, who lived on the other side of town in a neighborhood humming with children’s laughter and the sizzle of backyard grills on weekends. Denver could feel the difference already, like breathing in fresh air after days in a stuffy room.“I’m glad we’re doing this,” India said finally, breaking the silence. “I just... I need a break. Your family, your mom—everything’s been so heavy.”He nodded. “You don’t have to explain. I need this, too. Let’s just be us for a while.”As they turned onto I