Billionaire, I Am Not Your Wife! novel Chapter 29

Chapter 27: Haunted By Her Ghost

LOGAN

I didn't want to admit it, but now that I was alone and not performing for anyone, I could finally say it.

The room felt too big, too empty without her, and although she may not be here, doesn’t mean that her presence wasn’t greatly felt. Every surface in the room held reminders of her-the book on her nightstand.

The framed photo of the three of us from Nick’s second birthday. The small jewelry box where she kept her jewelry, the ones she owned before marrying me.

I’d never bought her expensive jewelry. Never bought her much of anything, really. She never asked for things, never complained about what she didn’t have.

I’d thought that meant she didn’t want anything. Now I wondered if she believed that she wasn’t something permanent.

My phone buzzed, and I grabbed it eagerly, hoping to see Sedona’s name.

Instead, it was an sss from my lawyer about a land acquisition.

I threw the phone onto the nightstand harder than necessary and stared up at the ceiling. Tomorrow, I decided. I’ll be the one to apologize to her and make her come home, no more waiting her out.

Because she had to come home. Where else would she go? What else did she have?

She couldn’t stay with that boytoy of her forever and she was an orphan, she had only me and Nick to come back to.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but all I could see was Sedona’s face at the hospital, as she told me she was done with me.

And for the first time since this whole nightmare had started, felt a flicker of real fear spark in my chest as I tried to suppress it. What if she meant it? What if she was never coming back?

The week that followed was the longest week of my life. Every morning, I woke up expecting to find Sedona in the kitchen, making breakfast like nothing had happened.

Every evening, I came home anticipating her car in the driveway, her shoes by the door, some sign that she’d returned to her senses and had decided to come home, but I was disappointed each time.

I’d sent three more messages since that first night. Each one had been read, none had been answered. The lack of response was somehow worse than an argument would have been. At least if she was yelling at me, we’d be communicating. This silence was final, and there was no coming back from this. I had no idea where she would be, if she was still in this city or had left to another country.

Nick asked about her constantly, missing her every day that passed without hearing from her as he became more insistent with his questions.

“When is Mom coming home? Can I call Mom? Does Mom know I miss her?”

I deflected, made excuses, promised she’d be back soon. But my confidence was waning.

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