The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 98

The iodine stung as he applied it, making Clara flinch.

"Bear with it," Rhys murmured, keeping his head down and lightening his touch. "You knew the shoes didn't fit, yet you wore them all night. Is suffering worth it just to look pretty?"

"If I wore flip-flops to a bar, you'd accuse me of embarrassing you."

Rhys peeled open a bandage and looked up at her. "When have I ever said you embarrassed me?"

Clara pressed her lips together and didn't answer.

He hadn't said it, that was true.

Because every single time, she had worked tirelessly to be perfect, ensuring she never left a single blemish on his reputation within his social circle.

Applying the bandage, Rhys gently rubbed his thumb over her ankle bone.

"We head out at nine tomorrow morning. I've checked the diving gear," he said. "We're taking a boat to an uninhabited island. The water quality is better there than in the public zones. We might see sea turtles."

"Okay." Clara pulled her foot back, crawled under the duvet, and turned her back to him. "Lights out. I'm sleepy."

Rhys finished washing up, turned off the lights, and lay down behind her.

The breathing beside him gradually became steady and long. Clara was asleep.

She fell asleep quickly, as if she could cut her connection to the world the moment she decided she didn't want to deal with him.

Rhys, however, lay wide awake.

The sound of the waves slapped against the pilings beneath the floorboards, rhythmic and relentless.

Noah's words echoed in his mind on a loop: "It's a question of priority, not time."

Rhys had never considered himself irresponsible.

On the force, he was Captain Huntington, the man everyone trusted, the one who led from the front and handled everything personally.

To his mother, despite his resentment, he fulfilled his duties as a son.

To Clara, he had always believed he gave her the best.

Rhys tried to clear his mind, but intrusive images kept jumping out.

If the person waiting for him in the torrential rain outside the station five years ago had been Margot... If the person hiking ten kilometers with a heavy pack had been Margot...

What would he have done?

He would have run out immediately, regulations be damned.

His chest cinched tight, stealing his breath for a second.

Clara shifted in her sleep, her brow furrowing. Her hand went to her stomach, as if she were in pain.

Rhys reached out, placing his warm palm flat against her lower abdomen and rubbing gently.

Her body was cold. Even in the tropical heat of Sunbay City, under a duvet, her hands and feet were like ice.

"Hurts..." she mumbled in her sleep.

"Where does it hurt?" Rhys leaned in closer, whispering.

The woman in his arms shrank further into the blanket and murmured something else. Rhys held his breath to listen.

Clara: [Honey! saw a stray dog by the road today, its eyes looked exactly like yours when you're mad! [Photo.jpg]]

Clara: [The weather turned, remember your knee supports, old man Huntington!]

Clara: [Wait for me after work, let's get fried chicken. I bought that super spicy dip, I'm gonna make you cry!]

Clara: [Rhys, I miss you.]

Clara: [The rain is huge. Be safe on your mission, I'm waiting for you to come home.]

Back then, she kept sending him messages, and he rarely replied.

[I’m busy.]

Rhys stared at that single, cold word until his eyes stung.

He opened her social media feed.

In the past, alongside photos of them together, she would post little updates set to 'Only visible to him.'

Little complaints, flirtations meant only for his eyes.

But now, he couldn't see her posts anymore.

He pressed the phone against his chest and exhaled slowly.

If a hit-and-run driver fled, he could set up roadblocks, pursue them, and drag them back from the ends of the earth.

But Clara wanted to leave. And he couldn't put handcuffs on her.