My Husband's Affair My Anniversary Gift (Lily and David) novel Chapter 332

“What are you lost in?”

The voice came softly from behind her.

Before Riyana could even turn her head, warmth wrapped around her. Strong arms circled her waist, firm and familiar. Jabco stood close, too close, his chest pressed against her back. His face lowered near hers, their cheeks almost touching, his breath brushing lightly against her skin.

Her body stiffened instantly.

“What are you doing?” she whispered urgently. “People will see.”

She tried to step away, but his arms tightened instead, pulling her closer as if he hadn’t heard a word she said.

“Why are you so worried when I don’t care?” he murmured near her ear. “Let them see.”

Riyana let out a slow, helpless breath.

Fighting him was pointless. It always was. When he decided on something, there was no moving him.

She stopped struggling.

Her eyes stayed fixed on the painting in front of her, but she wasn’t really seeing it anymore. Colors blurred together as Elara’s words replayed in her mind, one by one, sharp and heavy. Every sentence felt like a stone pressing against her chest.

She didn’t ask Jabco anything.

She didn’t turn around.

She didn’t demand explanations.

What right did she have?

They weren’t in a relationship that allowed jealousy. They weren’t lovers who could argue about the past. They were married, yes, but it was a marriage built on silence, and misunderstandings.

She couldn’t confront him about Elara. She couldn’t ask why he never told her. She couldn’t question what they once were.

Standing there, she realized something that made her chest ache even more.

She had always believed she knew him.

Ten years by his side. Ten years working for him. Ten years watching his expressions, predicting his moods, understanding his silence.

But now she saw how wrong she had been.

She didn’t know him at all.

She didn’t know he was afraid of the sea. She didn’t know what he truly liked.

She didn’t know what memories haunted him at night. She didn’t know who he had loved so deeply that it still lived in the shadows of his life.

They had never talked about those things.

Not once.

“What’s wrong?”

Jabco’s voice lowered, serious now.

“Why do you look so pale?”

She didn’t answer.

Being held like this, feeling his warmth, his steady breathing, the quiet concern in his voice, it made her feel trapped. Just like the painting in front of her. Beautiful on the surface, broken underneath.

Her eyes burned suddenly.

She frowned slightly, annoyed with herself.

Since when had she become this weak?

She blinked hard and lifted her hand, wiping away the moisture before it could fall.

Jabco noticed.

He shifted her gently, turning her around so she faced him. His hands slid to her shoulders, steadying her.

“You like this painting that much?” he asked softly, studying her red eyes. “It made you cry?”

She shook her head quickly and lowered her gaze.

“No.”

“Then look at me.”

His fingers moved to her chin, lifting her face until she had no choice but to meet his eyes.

“What’s going on?” he asked quietly.

This time, the worry in his voice was clear. Honest. It unsettled her more than anger ever could.

She didn’t want him to see her like this. Lately, she had been crying too often, breaking too easily, and she hated it. He hated it too. She could feel that.

“I want to go home,” she said hoarsely.

The words came out before she could stop them.

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