The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 175

175 Chapter 175 A Promise Of Forever

Blanche’s POV 1

Vincent glanced back–I was still lost in the thick of the crowd, leaning forward, completely captivated by the acrobats spinning through

the air.

He slipped away to the palm reader, negotiating quietly before sliding seven hundred dollars into the man’s palm.

When he returned, the acrobats had finished their final bow, and the crowd began to scatter. I turned around, searching through the faces, my forehead creasing when I couldn’t find him.

Then someone tapped my shoulder. “Hey, Blanche–lose somebody?”

I whirled around to find him standing there, a necklace resting in his open palm.

He cocked his head, that warm, infectious grin lighting up his eyes as our gazes met.

My heart did a little skip at his smile, but I quickly looked away. “It’s getting late already. We should head back.”

Seeing me about to walk off, Vincent quickly caught my wrist. “Let’s stick around a little longer.”

I glanced down at his grip on my wrist. “Let go first.”

Vincent held firm. “Only if you hang out with me a bit more.”

I had no choice but to agree. “Fine.”

With that, Vincent released my hand, but in the same motion, he placed the necklace in my palm. “Spotted it at one of the stalls. Nothing

fancy. Wear it if you like,” he said, keeping his tone casual.

I examined the piece. Though I rarely bought jewelry for myself, I knew quality when I saw it. The necklace was intricate, well–crafted—

definitely not some cheap souvenir.

A wave of guilt washed over me as I closed my fingers around it, then held it back out to him. “Vincent, I can afford my own accessories.

You don’t need to buy me things… but I get what you’re trying to do. Thanks.”

When I refused it, Vincent’s expression went cold.

He took the necklace back, his jaw clenching as his face darkened. “If you don’t want it,” he said, his voice dropping low, “then there’s no

point keeping it around.”

Before I could stop him, he pulled his arm back and hurled it toward the crowded market.

“Vincent, no!” I snapped, shooting him a frustrated glare.

He just shrugged, acting like it was nothing. “You said you didn’t want it.”

“Even if I refused, you still spent money on it!” I shot back, my irritation building. “How could you just toss it like that?”

A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face when he saw how genuinely upset I was. “So,” he said, his voice teasing and low, “do you

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want it or not?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Vincent raised his hand. The necklace hung from his fingers, catching the light. He’d never actually thrown it.

“I’m asking one more time,” he said, locking eyes with me, all playfulness gone. “Do you want it?”

The challenge was crystal clear–say no again, and he’d really make it disappear.

Trapped by his manipulation, I finally gave in with a defeated sigh. “Just… hand it over. I’ll keep it.”

A victorious grin flashed across his face as he dropped the necklace into my hand.

After I tucked it safely in my pocket, we started walking again, wandering deeper into the market.

The crowds had thinned out since earlier.

We were strolling down the street when an old man at a wobbly table–tarot cards spread across worn velvet, a faded sign next to him reading “Cards & Insights“-called out to me. “Miss, you got a second?”

I turned to see a lean man with a graying beard, dressed in a worn tweed jacket over a flannel shirt. At first glance, he radiated the steady, assured presence of someone who knew his trade.

“Me?” I asked, pointing at myself, a slight frown creasing my brow.

He stroked his beard, a smile crinkling his eyes. “Take a seat. Let’s see what the cards have to say.”

I smiled, shaking my head. “No thanks, I’m good-”

“Easy,” he interrupted, settling back in his chair with complete confidence. “I’m not trying to con you. If I’m talking nonsense, you walk

away. No charge, no problem.”

I started to decline again, but Vincent nudged my arm, his voice low and amused. “Come on. Let’s hear what story he tells.”

The old man jumped in, “Exactly. Think of it as chatting with a stranger. Could be entertaining.”

Between the two of them pressuring me, I finally sighed, half–smiling, and sat down on the stool across from him.

The old man pushed the tarot deck toward me,

“Give these a shuffle. Focus on whatever’s weighing on your mind.” I did as he asked, then handed them back.

He laid them out, his fingers hovering over the cards as he studied them, then looked up at me. “Medical field, right?” he said like he was stating a known fact, not making a guess. “You haven’t found your groove yet, but you will. You’ve got that quiet intensity–it takes time, but you’ll leave your mark”

I blinked. He hadn’t asked for my birthday, hadn’t bothered with charts–just read the cards and spoke. He tapped another card, continuing, “This marriage situation… it’s eating at you. Like carrying a rock in your pocket. Keep lugging it around, it’ll pull you under. Better to drop it and move on.”

My throat tightened.

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He kept going, his voice gentler now. “Cards say you’ll have children–three, if things go according to plan. The first is a girl. The other

two… not with your current situation.”

He paused, glancing at me, then added, “That first child? She’s going to take everything you’ve got. Better conserve your strength for

her.”

He flipped another card, his eyebrows rising. “Your family’s solid, though. Parents, brother–good foundation. Sister–in–law too. Try to keep that harmony. Fighting with them? It’ll tear you apart, inside and out.”

I sat there staring at the cards, a quiet hum of disbelief in my head. How the hell did he know all that?

Could this actually be legitimate?

Vincent stayed back a few steps, nodding to himself, clearly satisfied with how things were unfolding. He glanced over at me, his gaze

lingering, waiting to see my reaction.

The old man’s words had left me somewhat rattled, curiosity creeping in–curious about what my romantic future might hold.

He must’ve picked up on it, because he grinned and asked, “Ring any bells, miss?”

Instead of answering, I leaned forward. “You’re saying I’ll have two more kids after the first?”

He nodded. “That’s what the cards show.”

I turned to Vincent and said, “Can you give me some space for a minute?”

Vincent frowned, pretending to be offended. “Something I shouldn’t hear?”

I replied. “I want to ask about something personal.”

Hearing that. Vincent backed down. “Alright, fine. I’ll browse around.”

Even though he couldn’t hear now, he’d find out eventually anyway.

Once Vincent had moved several paces away, I turned back and asked, “Can you tell who I’ll end up with?”

The old man closed his eyes, mumbling something that sounded like gibberish, then stroked his beard and gave me a knowing look.

“I can’t reveal everything, but he’s already in your orbit. You’ve made him a promise of forever, in a sense. And right now? He’s here with

you?

froze. I turned, my eyes finding Vincent’s back as he wandered toward a food stand–just his back, nothing more.

But the old man had said the right man is here with me.

Who else could he mean?

My gaze stayed on Vincent, my expression shifting into something more complex.

If the old man was right–if Vincent was meant to be my future husband… seriously?

How was that possible?

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175 Chapter 175 A Promise Of Forever

There was barely any connection between us–we weren’t even close enough to be real friends.

I let out a small, strained smile. “Thanks for the reading, but I’m not buying it,” I said.

As I stood to leave, the old man stroked his beard again and gave me a meaningful grin. “Kid, some people are just meant to be part of your story. You’re linked, so there’s no escaping it. Instead of fighting destiny, maybe just roll with it. You might find happiness much

sooner that way.”

I heard him but didn’t respond. “What do I owe you?” I asked.

“Didn’t really nail it for you, so it’s free,” he said, waving his hand.

I didn’t argue–just pulled out my wallet and handed him thirty dollars.

As I got up to go, he called after me, “Kid, being stubborn won’t get you anywhere. The one you’re looking for–his name is Aarav. There’s

no one else for you but him.”

I kept walking, letting his words hang in the air without acknowledgment.

Vincent saw me heading off and jogged to catch up. “What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing the tense set of my jaw.

I stopped, turning to face him, and stared–really stared–like I was trying to spot something I’d overlooked. I studied his face, his eyes,

and found nothing. No real connection, no half–remembered promise.

What bond could we possibly have?‘ I thought. The old man must’ve been making it up. Just some scam artist spinning stories.

Maybe some parts were accurate, but that didn’t mean he knew anything real. Getting a few details right didn’t make him psychic.

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