The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 60

When she came out, Rhys was sitting on the edge of the bed replying to messages. Hearing her, he turned off his screen and looked up.

Clara was wearing a bathrobe, her wet hair draped over her shoulders.

"Done?" Rhys stood up and walked over, taking the drying cap from her hand. "Why didn't you dry off before coming out? You're dripping."

"I'm lazy," she answered honestly, sitting down at the vanity and patting skincare products onto her face.

Rhys turned and went into the walk-in closet.

When he came back out, he was holding a hair dryer.

"Dry your hair before you sleep, or you'll have a headache tomorrow."

Although Rhys was a typical straight man, he was actually quite attentive to details.

When they first got together, he used to dry her hair often.

Back then, her hair was even longer, and it took forever to dry. He never complained.

Sometimes, while drying, he would lower his head and kiss the exposed nape of her neck or the curve of her ear.

Those were some of their most intimate moments, even more heart-fluttering than sex.

Later, it happened less and less.

Because he was busy. Because they had less to say to each other.

She hadn't expected to enjoy this treatment again, twice in a row, right when they were on the verge of divorce.

She didn't refuse.

She had to admit, Rhys had good technique.

The airflow was moderate, the temperature perfect, and his fingers combed through her hair with just the right amount of pressure. It was comfortable enough to lull her to sleep.

"Too hot?"

"No," Clara replied with her eyes closed.

"Okay."

He switched angles and continued, patiently blowing away the dampness strand by strand.

Clara silently counted the seconds, wondering: How could he split his heart into so many pieces?

Giving a little piece to everyone, thinking he was being fair and covering all bases.

Yet he forgot that love is exclusive.

"Rhys."

On the day they returned to the Bridges family home, the weather didn't cooperate. It started snowing lightly again.

Rhys reminded her, "When we get there, don't look so grim. It'll worry Mom and Dad."

Clara murmured an assent.

The car turned into the residential complex.

Snow piled up on both sides of the road, and a few children were running and playing downstairs.

Clara looked at the apartment building with its peeling paint, and she choked up.

This was her home, but this time, she didn't dare tell her parents she was truly prepared for a divorce.

The car came to a stop. Rhys unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to grab the gifts from the back seat.

"Let's go. Don't keep Mom and Dad waiting."

Carrying the gift boxes in one hand, he reached out with the other to take hers.

Clara looked down at their joined hands. She didn't pull away. Instead, she squeezed his hand back.

This would be the last time she brought him home.