Barrage Reverses My MarriageChapter 2

The next morning, I woke to find him dressing.

The money had been transferred back. The cash was neatly stacked on my pillow.

"Why..."

"If I take it all, what will you live on? Women need things—clothes, makeup, food..."

I shook my head. "I don't wear makeup. And I work a second job at a produce market after my main one. The owner is kind; he lets me take home the unsold vegetables for free."

"As long as we're not eating steak every night, two people don't cost much to feed."

I lowered my head, pretending to be focused on folding the blanket, but I deliberately let him see the way I bit my lip, the ill-fitting, hand-me-down pajamas that swallowed my frame.

"Besides... Jessica gave me two bags of her old clothes a few days ago. They'll last me a long time."

I saw a flicker of emotion cross his face, a raw pang of pity in his eyes.

After a long moment, he went to the bathroom.

"I'm a man," he said, his voice muffled by the sound of running water. "I can't be supported by my wife. I'll borrow from friends if I have to."

From that day on, our life settled into a quiet, ordinary rhythm. We went our separate ways during the day. In the evening, after my two jobs, I'd come home and cook dinner. We'd eat together, and then he'd sleep on the floor, and I'd sleep on the bed.

At first, our conversations were polite and stilted. Gradually, we started talking about our day, about things we saw outside. We became like friends, helping each other with small tasks without a second thought.

It took one week to go from strangers to comfortable roommates.

A week later, at ten o'clock at night, David came home and stopped dead in the doorway.

A row of hooks now lined the wall by the door. His suit jacket, which he usually draped over a chair, was hanging neatly beside my own coat. The pilled, gray bedding had been replaced with a vibrant, saffron-yellow duvet set. On the kitchen counter, a plate of stir-fried pork and greens was still steaming.

The dim, flickering bulb overhead was gone, replaced by a new one that cast a warm, inviting glow over the entire 300-square-foot apartment.

And in the middle of this transformed home, I was standing on a stool, hanging new curtains.

Hearing the door, I turned and gave him a small smile.

"You're back. Eat while it's hot. The market owner gave me the pork for free." Then I gestured around the room. "And none of this cost much. I found it all at thrift stores."

David's throat worked, his eyes sweeping over every new object in the room. The flood of warm yellow filled his vision, a stark, emotional contrast to the bleakness that had defined this space. His chest rose and fell, and a reddish tint crept into the whites of his eyes.

I seized the moment. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice soft. "I didn't ask you before picking out the color for the curtains and bedding. I just really love this shade, and I… ah!"

The stool wobbled with a sharp creak, and I lost my balance, tipping backward.

In a flash, he lunged across the room, catching me securely in his arms just before I hit the floor.

My hands flew to his collar, my fingers gripping the fabric as I steadied myself against him. I looked up, my eyes wide with the adrenaline and relief of a near-disaster.

"Thank you... David."

He let out a breath he'd been holding, but his gaze drifted down from my face, following the loose neckline of my t-shirt.

His throat bobbed again.

"Jenna."

It was the first time he'd said my name. It came out as a raw, husky whisper.

"Can I?"

I bit my lip, my cheeks flushing a deep crimson. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, a silent consent.

"Yes."

I had gambled correctly. He was drawn to the role of a savior, a hero.

That night, David and I transitioned from partners in law to husband and wife in every sense of the word.

My hair was down, the lights were off, and the name he whispered in the dark was mine.

Late in the night, I woke up, sore but content.

My phone screen was lit with a dozen messages from Jessica.

"Why aren't you answering? Jenna, don't tell me you actually slept with that loser."

"Get a grip. Mom and Dad will never approve of this. Get a divorce and come home before you regret it. Any of the guys I showed you are a thousand times better than him."

The last message was a threat.

"Don't be an idiot. If you don't come back, Mom and Dad will hunt you down. Don't expect me to save you then."

David's steady breathing warmed my ear. The single bed was too small for two, forcing us to lie pressed tightly together.

I knew he couldn't have fallen completely in love with me in just one week.

A little push wouldn't hurt.

I texted back: "I'm never coming back. I love him. I don't care what Mom and Dad say. I'm going to spend the rest of my life with him."