Lost Me, Gained Regret (Jane and Bryant Ferguson)

My heart skipped a beat, then quickly descended into a familiar chaos I couldn't tame.

I took a deep breath, continuing, "Moving in here? I don't recall agreeing to that."

"Grandpa mentioned you agreed to put the divorce on hold," he retorted, pushing his phone towards me as if it were a peace offering. "Why don't you tell him yourself?"

"Jerk," I couldn't help but glare at him. "Agreeing to wait on the divorce doesn't mean I agreed to you moving in."

The CEO of Ferguson Group resorting to such tactics, who would believe it?

"Isn't it only natural for a married couple to live together?" he replied, smoothly as ever.

"Bullshit." I muttered under my breath, making my way into the house, with him following closely behind without an ounce of hesitation.

Perhaps it was the recollection of what Timothy had shared with me earlier that evening, or maybe a sudden wave of pity towards Bryant, but I couldn't bring myself to kick him out. Instead, I simply pointed towards a room opposite the master bedroom, "You can stay there."

"Okay, sure."

He didn't push any further, accepting my offer with a mild temperament and carried his luggage into the room.

I got myself a glass of ice water and had barely set the glass down when I bumped into a broad, warm chest. It was a familiar yet nostalgic scent.

Yet, I quickly stepped back, slightly flustered, "Anything else?"

We felt more like strangers than a married couple, and it was precisely this distance that I needed to maintain.

To remind myself, "Jane, you're not the one he cherishes."

A hint of sadness flickered across his face as he pressed his lips together, "I was just wondering how your face is. Has it gotten any better?"

"I don't know," I replied offhandedly.

I hadn't even thought to check in the mirror all night.

It wasn't until he mentioned it that I remembered.

He raised his hand, "Let me see."

"That's okay." I instinctively dodged, "I'll take care of it myself."

"Jane, are we really going to be this distant now?" he frowned.

"It's not like that." I replied.

My mind flashed back to him and Margaret at the police station, so close and intimate. My gaze fell to his sleeve as I spoke indifferently, "I just find it disgusting." I did love him, that was true.

But the Bryant I fell in love with was pure and proud, not someone who's just rolled out of another woman's bed trying to comfort me.

"Well... at least remember to apply some ointment," he said, his hand pausing mid-air, his fingers curling slightly.

It was the first time I saw him look so awkward.

Back in my room, reflecting on that moment, a mix of sourness and pity swirled within me.

Yet, looking up at the mirror and seeing the stark red marks on my face after removing my makeup, I found my reason to harden my heart again.

He probably didn't defend Margaret earlier just to prevent me from bringing it up to Timothy.

After all, he's always been considerate towards Margaret.

Unable to enjoy dinner at the family gathering and feeling famished after a shower, I couldn't focus on my book. Peering through the door crack, I noticed the living room lights were still on.

Not wanting to face Bryant, I hesitated but eventually gave in to my hunger. Thinking he might have forgotten to turn off the lights, I ordered delivery with a note to leave it hanging on the door, avoiding any doorbell rings.

Unexpectedly, as I tiptoed out after seeing the delivery notification, I ran straight into Bryant working in the open office area.

Fresh from a shower, he wore a navy blue pajama set, looking effortlessly handsome with his wet hair adding to his allure. Removing his gold-rimmed glasses, he massaged the bridge of his nose before approaching me, "Hungry?"