Rejected by my Husband novel Chapter 20

REID’S POINT OF VIEW

Eleventh? Twelfth? I don’t know anymore.

The number of whiskeys? Alcohol? Vodkas? That too I don’t know. I’ve lost count of the shots I’ve taken tonight.

The glass in my hand is almost empty, and my reflection in it looks like a ghost. A stranger. Someone I don’t even recognize anymore.

Never in my life did I think silence could hurt this much.

The mansion is quiet, too quiet. No soft footsteps padding down the hall. No faint hum of her voice as she sang to herself while folding clothes.

No baby’s cry echoing from the other room. Nothing. Just silence pressing against my ears, against my chest, until I can’t breathe.

And I wonder if this is what death feels like.

I tip the glass back, letting the burn scorch my throat. For a fleeting second, it numbs the pain. But the moment passes, and she returns to me again. Her face. Her eyes. Her voice.

My Karline.

I have loved her. God, I have loved her for years. Seven? Eight? From our college days. Back then she was just the girl with laughter that could quiet a room, with stubbornness sharp enough to cut me down when I got too arrogant. She wasn’t like the others. She didn’t fawn, didn’t beg for my attention. She was… her.

I still remember the first time we met.

It was in the library, second year. I had gone in with my friends, pretending to study but really only passing time. And there she was, sitting by the window with a pile of books that looked taller than her. She didn’t notice me at first, didn’t care to. Her hair was falling across her cheek, and she kept tucking it back impatiently as she scribbled notes in the margins.

“Mind if I sit?” I’d asked, cocky as hell.

She didn’t even look up. “Plenty of other tables. Take your pick.”

I laughed, because no one ever spoke to me like that. Not then. Not when everyone wanted to be on Reid Carter’s good side. But Karline didn’t care. And that… that was the beginning.

I chased her for months. Months of stolen moments, of teasing, of showing up where she was just to see her eyes roll at me. And when she finally said yes—finally allowed me into her world...I swore I’d never let her go.

I loved her then. I love her still.

So how? How could she betray me so easily?

I slam the glass down on the counter, the sound ricocheting through the emptiness of the room. My chest heaves as I press a hand against it, as though I can claw out the ache buried there.

Karline.

She was supposed to be mine. Always mine.

And yet the images flash in my head, cruel, relentless, her dancing with other men, her laughter too bright, too free. Adrian’s voice, slimy, smug, ringing in my ears. “She came to me, Mr. Carter. Said she was feeling horny. I wasn’t the first, and I won’t be the last.”

I want to tear him apart. I want to tear the whole damn world apart.

But the worst part?

A piece of me believed him.

Because the DNA test, the cursed piece of paper that should have been my salvation...spat in my face. Twice. Ethan isn’t mine. My son… isn’t mine.

I close my eyes, and another memory claws at me.

For a second, my heart stopped. And then, it soared. I wanted to pull her in my arms.. kissed her and screamed in happiness because I always wanted to be a father.

But all I had was to remember her cheating on me.

That memory always feels like a knife twisting in my gut. Because the baby I had loved, the baby I had dreamed of, isn’t mine.

I drag my hands down my face, the roughness of my beard scraping against my palms. “God…” I whisper, my voice breaking. “If you ever loved me, even a little, take this pain away.”

But it lingers. The ache, the rage, the grief.

I think of the way she looked at me before leaving. Eyes cold, voice final. “You’re nothing to us now. Not to me. Not to Ethan.”

And tha...those words...burn more than anything else.

I slam my fist against the sofa arm, growling through clenched teeth. “Damn you, Karline. Damn you for doing this to me.”

But the truth I can’t admit, the truth I bury under liquor and rage, is this:

I don’t hate her.

I can’t.

I love her still.

And maybe that’s the cruelest part of all.