I Used To Cling To Him At Night, Now I Turn My Back Chapter 02

I Used To Cling To Him At Night, Now I Turn My Back Chapter 02

Something hard beneath my pillow woke me up.

When I pulled it out, I realized it was the pregnancy test from yesterday.

The two clear lines stared back at me.

It would’ve satisfied my parents’ constant pressure for grandkids.

More than that, I’d wanted it to be a surprise for Callan.

The floating comments appeared again.

[Did the plot speed up? I could’ve sworn the side character didn’t use the baby as leverage until after the male lead met the female lead.]

[Relax. Remember how he got forced into this marriage? Even if she tells him now, he’ll just tell her to get an abortion. Same outcome.]

My hand drifted to my still-flat stomach.

A heavy weight settled in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Mrs. Holloway, Mr. Holloway’s waiting for you at breakfast.”

Mrs. Cheney called through the door.

I hurriedly hid the pregnancy test.

When she saw me come out, she quietly headed for the kitchen to bring breakfast.

Callan was already dressed in a tailored suit.

He sat upright at the dining table, exactly as proper as ever.

The floating comments started roasting us again.

[Here we go again. The clinging vine scene. Smart move by Mrs. Cheney bolting out of there.]

[No way. The side character’s literally a high-needs infant. Dude didn’t have to custom-order a dining loveseat, and he sure as hell doesn’t have to spoon-feed her.]

I stopped in my tracks.

After taking a slow breath, I walked past Callan and sat in the chair to his right instead.

He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up from his newspaper.

When he noticed what I was wearing, he paused.

“It’s not that cold this morning. The heat’s already on.”

“Mhm.” I answered quietly.

Still wearing the only modest dress in my closet, I lowered my head and started eating breakfast.

His gaze lingered on my lips before he looked down and cleared his throat.

“The strawberries are washed.”

“You can still play, if you want. But behave this time. No wandering hands.”

I picked up my fork and popped a strawberry into my mouth.

“It’s fine. I can eat the tops too.”

He frowned, as if he couldn’t quite understand why I was acting so strangely.

Without a word, he filled a bowl with oatmeal, scooped up a spoonful, and held it out toward me.

“Have a little more.”

I took the bowl from his hand.

“I’ve got it.”

His brow furrowed, and his expression became impossible to read.

Mrs. Cheney returned carrying the after-breakfast wine. She blinked in surprise.

“Mrs. Holloway… you can feed yourself?”

I laughed awkwardly and pretended not to notice the wounded look in Callan’s eyes.

I reached for the wineglass—then stopped short.

I couldn’t drink anymore. My hand immediately pulled back.

Callan had already put down the newspaper.

His expression was blank, like his thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

Out of nowhere, I asked, “Callan… do you like kids?”