My Husband’s Countdown Dropped When She Smiled At Him Chapter 03

My Husband’s Countdown Dropped When She Smiled At Him Chapter 03

The next day, my fever was gone. 　　But my throat was still so raw I could barely talk.

Owen hadn’t come home all night.

At six in the morning, he texted: [The landlord wouldn’t pick up. I got her a room at a budget motel nearby. Just got back to the office. Don’t forget to take your meds.]

I stared at the words on the screen.

Budget motel.

A man and a woman alone.

Honestly, I didn’t think they’d done anything physical. Owen had his lines.

But the message itself was already sharp enough to cut.

That afternoon, I went to his office.

My friend Maya Reed had borrowed my car yesterday and said she’d drop it off at Owen’s building today. Also asked me to grab some files Owen left at home.

I pushed open the glass door to the executive suite.

It was quiet inside. Owen was in a meeting.

Paige sat at the assistant’s desk in the outer room, typing away.

When she saw me, she jumped up.

“Mrs. Harper! Hey, you’re better?”

She was all sunshine, showing off a row of straight white teeth.

She was wearing a men’s rain jacket. Way too big.

She’d rolled the sleeves twice and they still hung past her wrists.

That was the jacket Owen had worn out last night.

I stared at it.

Owen was a clean freak. He never lent his clothes to anyone.

Paige followed my eyes, then tugged at the hem.

“Mrs. Harper, don’t get the wrong idea.”

She explained, open and easy.

“My clothes were still wet this morning, and the motel didn’t have a dryer. Mr. Harper didn’t want me coming in with wet clothes, so he let me wear his jacket.”

“He’s seriously the sweetest. Totally down to earth.”

Her tone was honest. Her eyes were clear.

Like she really was just grateful to a good boss.

I walked over and set the files on her desk.

“Oh yeah?”

My eyes moved past her to her desk.

Right next to her computer monitor sat a white ceramic humidifier.

Shaped like a chubby whale.

Last month, I’d been shopping and thought they were cute. Bought a pair.

One for my nightstand. One I told Owen to keep in his office.

Now that humidifier was puffing white mist right into Paige’s face.

Paige noticed me looking.

“Oh, this thing?”

She reached out and touched the whale’s little fin.

“The office is so dry. Mr. Harper gave it to me this morning. Said I could use it.”

“It’s pretty cute, don’t you think, Mrs. Harper?”

She smiled at me.

No attitude. No challenge.

I didn’t answer her.

I turned and pushed open the door to Owen’s private office.

Empty. The spot on his desk where the humidifier used to sit was bare.

Ten minutes later, Owen came back from his meeting.

When he saw me on the couch, he blinked, clearly surprised.

“What are you doing here? I thought I told you to rest at home.”

He walked over, his hand reaching for my forehead like always.

I turned my head. Dodged it.

His hand hung in the air for a second, then dropped back awkwardly.

“Still mad?”

He sighed and sat down on the single sofa next to me.

“Come on. Last night was an emergency. I couldn’t just let her sleep on the street.”

I lifted my head and looked at him.

“That rain jacket. Aren’t you the one who hates it when other people touch your things?”

Owen frowned.

“Nora, don’t be ridiculous. Her clothes were soaked. She couldn’t come to work wet.”

“And the humidifier?”

I cut him off.

“You gave that away too, just as a ‘favor’?”

For the first time, Owen’s expression flickered with something uncomfortable.

But he bounced right back to that righteous confidence.

“It was just sitting on my desk doing nothing. Her desk is right under the AC vent. The air is bone-dry over there.”

“If you want one, I’ll buy you ten identical ones, okay?”

He looked at me, and now there was a little weariness in his voice.

“Nora, you were never this petty before.”

“Getting upset over small stuff, making a scene… what’s the point?”

Petty.

Making a scene.

I looked at the number above his head. [89 days 12 hours 05 minutes]

Dropped below a hundred.

I almost laughed.

Turns out, when you’re already dead to someone, even breathing is wrong.

I stood up and grabbed my bag.

“You’re right. 　　No point.”