My Husband Claimed Asexuality And Fathered Her Child Instead Chapter 02

My Husband Claimed Asexuality And Fathered Her Child Instead Chapter 02

My phone vibrated with a message from him.

[I won’t be home for dinner tonight.]

I typed back: [Okay. Happy anniversary.]

Three minutes later, he sent a single question mark, then quickly unsent it.

[You too.]

Two words.

He couldn’t even be bothered to ask what anniversary it was.

It was not that I didn’t want to fight with him; I was just too tired.

Disappointment had piled up past the point of anger, and I no longer had the strength to drag out old wounds.

I asked the driver to take me to the riverfront.

The wind was strong, whipping my hair across my face.

On the riverbank, a couple was taking wedding photos. The bride’s white veil billowed in the wind, and the groom laughed as he helped hold down the hem of her dress.

We never took wedding photos because Julian said he didn’t like cameras.

Looking back now, maybe he simply didn’t like being photographed with me.

By the time the sky darkened, I went to our usual restaurant.

The table for two I had reserved sat half-empty.

Steak, red wine, candles, and a small cake with the words “Happy Seventh Anniversary” written on top.

I finished my own steak, then cut his into neat pieces and slowly ate that too.

I took one bite of the cake. It was too sweet, so sweet it tasted bitter.

When I paid the bill, the manager recognized me.

“Mrs. Whitmore, Mr. Whitmore didn’t come?”

“He’s busy,” I said with a smile.

After I walked out of the restaurant, I received a bank notification on my phone.

A large transfer had come in, with the memo: [Gift.]

He had always liked solving everything with money.

Whether it was our wedding anniversary, my birthday, or even the time I was hospitalized with a fever last year, he transferred me money with a note that said: [Hire a caregiver.]

That was how he had always been.

If money could solve it, he would never offer comfort.

Only today did I realize he was not incapable of taking care of someone.

I simply was not that someone.

And he had never truly seen me.

Julian and I met through a blind date. He said I was a good fit for him.

We dated like an ordinary couple, but I never saw any light in his eyes when he looked at me.

He prepared things for our anniversaries too: roses by the hundreds, every romantic gesture I thought I wanted. He gave me all of it.

He was just cold.

I thought he didn’t know how to express himself.

It turned out his heart had belonged to someone else all along.

Later, when we got married, we didn’t hold a wedding, and all our friends thought Julian had social anxiety.

The truth was, I was afraid of standing on that stage with him.

When he put the ring on my finger, I was afraid there would be no certainty in his eyes, no look that said I was the one.

I was afraid that when it came time to say “I do,” mine would come out louder, steadier, more certain than his.

It was close to midnight when I got home, and he still had not returned.

The study door was slightly ajar.

I pushed it open and saw an open gift box on the desk.

Inside was a tiny baby onesie, pale blue, with a small airplane embroidered on the cuff.

I picked it up and suddenly imagined how carefully he must have chosen it.

Then I saw the journal lying open beside it.

According to the journal, his parents had not allowed him to be with Serena, and I had been the most suitable woman for him to marry.

That day, he had gone through blind dates with twenty women.Not one of them had felt right until he saw me.

He stopped looking because I looked like Serena.

So he had never truly seen me as his wife; he had only been fulfilling an obligation.

So this marriage had been a mistake from the very beginning.

Julian, let’s just end this.