Chapter 141
Chapter 141
Sullivan had only managed a meager three hours of sleep.
When he awoke, his arms were tightly wrapped around Megan. Her slightly disheveled silk nightgown
had slipped, revealing a delicate shoulder that shimmered softly in the pale down light.
She was still there, in his arms.
Sullivan bowed his head, nestling his face in the crook of her neck, findingfort in the warmth of her
skin.
He lingered for a moment before getting out of bed. Them was an important bidding meeting at the
office he couldn’t afford to miss.
After a quick shower and change of clothes, Sullivan was struggling with his tie when he returned to the
bedroom.
Megan was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, lost in thought. At the sound of his steps, she looked
up, and their eyes locked.
A few secondster, she seemed to recall the events of the previous night. Her voice soft and
detached, she spoke, “Sullivan, the truth doesn’t seem so important anymore. It’s been a long time,
and I don’t hold onto it as I used to. We should move forward.”
The morning light bathed her in a gentle glow as she spoke with newfound rity. “Think about what I
saidst night.”
Sullivan didn’t respond.
He took a step towards the bed, his voice husky, “Would you mind helping me with my tie? I just can’t
seem to get it right.” His voice trembled slightly towards the end, perhaps recalling the few tender
moments from their three–year marriage.
Unexpectedly, Megan didn’t refuse
She knelt on the bed as she used to and deftly tied his tie, leaning in to make it easier for her
They were close, so close that their breaths mingled, warm and quick
Megan’s fingers were skilled, and the knot she formed was beautiful
As she focused on the the, she revisited their earlier conversation, “Sullivan, about us
Her waist was suddenly in his grasp.
With ease, Sullivan’s hand encircled her, and he kissed her gently, not with force but with a tendemess
that seeped into her bones. He
was patient, his lips caressing hers softly, his masculine scent enveloping her as his hand pressed
lightly against her back, drawing
her close to him.
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The moon white silk of her nightgown contrasted with his dark cks.
It was a messy, poignant image.
Sullivan was still a young man, not yet thirty, and his desires were easily stirred.
Eventually, he stopped kissing Megan and rested his forehead on her shoulder, his breathsing out
in shallow maps, “Megan, do
you want this? Because I really do.”
Megan’s response was nonchnt, “Don’t you have to be at the office?”
Sullivan’s gaze deepened. He didn’t actually crave her that much; he just wanted to see if she still had
feelings for him. But when he
sought confirmation, he was met with disappointment.
Megan felt little. She remained calm, straightened her nightgown, and repeated, “Aren’t you supposed
to go to the office?”
Sullivan checked the time and decided to leave first.
After he was gone, Megany back in bed.
Staring at the French ivory ceiling, she fought back tears, trying to keep her eyes wide open. All her
feignedposure and strength
crumbled in Sullivan’s absence.
How could she just let go?
Because of one cruel twist of fate, she had lost the fervor of her youth, three years of her prime, and
had been trapped in a cold
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marriage.
How could Sullivan’s mere offer to start overpensate for all that?
She didn’t want his reparations, and she didn’t want himl
Her sobs were low and restrained, a necessary release after three years of endurance. No one knew
how she had lived through those years, nor how desperate she had once been.
At three in the afternoon, Megan left the house alone.
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09:52
She drove herself in a white Maserati, a car she had bought long ago but seldom used. She used to
prefer being candles, cherished
the moment the driver would open the door and address her as “Mrs Lowry