My Husband Wants An Open Marriage (Julie and Ryan) novel Chapter 79

CHAPTER 079: Visitor’s Pass 

Luke~~ 

+25 BONUS 

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die. It’s happening to me right now, except I’m not dying. But it sure feels like it. How had I been so stupid? I let my anger get the best of me, and now that witch is hospitalized. 

Sara. The name burns through my mind like an acid. My fists clench against the sheets. All she needed was a reason to make my life miserable, and I gave it to her on a platter of gold. 

I rake a hand through my hair, staring at the ceiling, as if the textured white paint can offer some sort of divine answer. It doesn’t. My mind replays yesterday in flashes: her smug face, the way her voice dripped with condescension, how my chest tightened as she spoke like Juan’s death was nothing more than an unfortunate mishap in her charmed life. 

The anger had felt like a living thing inside me, roaring to life with every word she said. And now she’s in a hospital bed, unconscious. 

I groan, turning onto my side. My eyes fall on Julie. She’s still sleeping, her face soft, peaceful, blissfully unaware of the storm raging inside me. Her hair is splayed out over the pillow, and her slightly parted lips look like they’re murmuring something. 

God, have I fucked this up too? 

The thought makes my chest tighten. Julie doesn’t know the full extent of what happened last night. She knows enough to ask questions I don’t want to answer, but she’s too kind, too patient to push me. 

I don’t deserve her. 

I slip out of bed as quietly as I can, wincing when the mattress shifts under my weight. Julie stirs, letting out a soft hum before settling back into her dreams. I hold my breath, waiting for her to wake up. But she doesn’t. 

Good. 

My clothes are on the floor, where I threw them last night before falling asleep. I grab them and start dressing, moving slowly. When I’m done, I glance back at her, still asleep, still beautiful. 

The notepad on the bedside table catches my eye. I tear off a sheet, the sound deafening in the quiet. 

‘Gone to the hospital. Didn’t want to wake you. I’ll call later.‘ 

I set the note down next to her, pausing as I do. My hand hovers above her face, itching to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes, to leave one last kiss on her lips. But I don’t, not wanting to risk waking her 

I feel like this is the last time I’ll see her–or the last time I’ll see her like this, Peaceful. Trusting. 

I shake my head and step back, the ache in my chest growing heavier with every passing second. 

In the hallway, the silence feels louder. I head down the stairs. My keys jangle in my pocket as I step out into the early morning light. 

The cool air hits my face. I get into my car and sit there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel tightly. 

Then I drive to the hospital. 

I try to focus on the road, but my mind keeps replaying Sara’s fall, the sound of her body hitting the stairs, the split second where time seemed to freeze. 

1/4 

CHAPTER 079: Visitor’s Pass 

Was it an accident? 

Yes. 

Could I have stopped it? 

Maybe. 

Did I push her? 

No. But try telling that to her. Or the doctors. Or anyone else who’s been waiting for me to screw up so they can hang me with it. 

I grip the wheel harder, the leather biting into my palms. 

By the time I pull into the hospital parking lot, my stomach is churning. The fluorescent lights inside the building feel harsher than usual. I take a deep breath and step inside, bracing myself for whatever comes next. 

Inside the hospital, the scent of antiseptic hangs in the air. The receptionist at the desk looks up, her expression blank but polite. 

“I’m here to see Sara Gonzalez,” I say, keeping my tone steady, though my insides are twisting 

She types into her computer, her nails clicking against the keyboard like tiny hammers. 

“Relation?” 

I hesitate. Ex–husband isn’t exactly a title I wear with pride. “I’m… a friend,” I say. “I brought her in last night. My name is Lucas Martinez.” 

• Her eyes flick up, scanning me briefly. “You’ll need a visitor’s pass.‘ 

She reaches under the desk, pulling out a small laminated card with a clip. “Room 317. Take the elevator to the third floor, turn left, and follow the signs. 

I nod, mumbling a quick “thank you” before taking the pass. As I walk toward the elevators, the weight in my chest grows heavier. 

When I reach Sara’s room, I pause outside the door, my hand hovering over the handle. Through the small glass pane, I can see her sitting upright on the bed, dressed in pale blue hospital scrubs that seem far too serene for the chaos she brings. Her dark hair is pulled back, though a few strands have escaped, framing her face. There’s a band -aid on her forehead and a faint bruise forming around her left eye. 

And, of course, she’s eating Jell–O. 

I push the door open, stepping inside. Her eyes meet mine and she immediately straightens, setting the plastic cup of Jell–O aside. 

“Hi,” she says. 

་་ 

“Hi.” 

She tilts her head, studying me with that sharp gaze of hers that always made me feel like a specimen under a microscope. “Did you bring chocolates?” 

“What?” 

“Anything to eat,” she says, gesturing to the Jell–O. “This stuff tastes like regret and broken dreams.” 

“I’ll get something for you shortly.” 

+25 BONUS 

CHAPTER 979 Visor’s Pass 

As I turn to leave, her voice stops me. 

“Lucas.” 

I freeze. It’s been years since she’s called me that, and it feels like a ghost rising from the grave. I turn back to face her, bracing for whatever manipulation she’s about to unleash. 

“I know,” she says, her voice softer now. “I know you didn’t push me.” 

Relief rushes through me. But before I can exhale, she continues. 

“But I know you didn’t do anything to stop the fall either. You came to my house, got me agitated, and caused me to fall down the stairs. So it’s your fault.” 

The relief evaporates. 

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have gone there.” 

“Sorry isn’t enough.” She picks up her Jell–O again, stabbing at it with the plastic spoon like it’s personally offended her. 

“What do you mean?” I ask. 

“Come closer, Lucas.” 

I hesitate, but her eyes lock on mine, challenging me. Against my better judgment, I step forward. 

She sniffs the air around me, an action so bizarre I almost step back. 

“You smell like chocolate and lavender,” she says. “Very different from yesterday. You were with a woman. Your ⚫ girlfriend. The bitch you sent to me the other day.” 

I say nothing, my jaw tightening. 

“She’s not your type, Lucas.” 

Her words hit a nerve, and my patience snaps. “What the fuck do you want, Sara?”