The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 192

"So why did you still ask about Rhys?"

Liam glanced down at his wife, draped his arm around her shoulders, and guided her toward the private room. "Just a casual question. Come on, let's eat."

...

In the past, Clara was terrified of running into the Huntingtons in public.

She knew her background was ordinary and that she didn't fit into their circle, so she would rehearse every word and action three times in her head before speaking.

Now that she had stepped out of it, she realized that the so-called oppression of the wealthy elite was only because she had cared about Rhys.

Once she stopped caring, these people were just ordinary acquaintances.

Passing through the atrium on the third floor, a maternity store caught Clara's eye.

A pale yellow onesie was hanging in the window, with a little duck embroidered on the chest.

Clara thought it was adorable and walked into the store to take a closer look.

"This is pure cotton, hypoallergenic standard, perfect for newborns," the sales assistant greeted her enthusiastically. "Miss, how many months along are you?"

"Just over two months."

"That's the perfect time to start stocking up. You might not show in the first three months, but once you’re having a baby, you'll want to buy everything you see for the baby."

The assistant smiled and recommended, "Look at these tiny socks, and this comfort blanket. They're bestsellers. Many expectant mothers buy them."

Clara followed her gesture.

Rows of colorful baby socks hung on the rack—palm-sized and impossibly cute.

She picked up a sock printed with a bear pattern, imagining a pair of chubby little feet wearing them a few months from now, kicking in the air.

Something in her chest went soft, and a smile tugged at her mouth.

"That color is a bit plain. If you don't know if it's a boy or a girl yet, white or yellow is the safest bet."

A gentle female voice chimed in from the side.

Clara turned to see a heavily pregnant woman, looking about seven or eight months along, holding two small outfits and comparing them.

The pregnant woman paused. "Business trip? Or just busy with work? Ugh, men these days, always full of excuses. They just want to slack off..."

"He's dead."

The sales assistant was shocked, nearly dropping the comfort blanket in her hand.

The pregnant woman looked panicked and apologetic. "I... I'm so sorry..."

"It's fine," Clara smiled. "He died early; there was nothing I could do."

She added, "His grave’s probably overgrown by now. I haven’t had time to go by."

With that, she turned and left calmly, leaving the two of them staring after her with looks of horror and sympathy.

Stepping out of the store, Clara let out a long breath.

That felt good.

Being a widow felt better than being his wife ever did.