The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 196

196 Chapter 196 I Lost To Blanche

Blanche’s POV

Vincent sat at the bed’s edge, his entire frame going rigid as I spoke. Even he could sense my meaning–I wanted him gone.

I watched him process this, seeing the realization dawn that he didn’t belong here anymore.

But Vincent wasn’t backing down. His frown deepened as he said, “I’m not busy. I’ll stay with you. You’re sick— I can’t just abandon you.”

I met his gaze, keeping my expression neutral, my tone soft but distant. “Go home. Amara’s a girl. She’ll handle caring for me better.”

His frown turned into a scowl as he protested, “But last night you said you would-”

He wanted to remind me that I’d opened my heart to him–that just last night, I’d agreed to let him stay close.

Before he could finish, I gently interrupted. “I had a

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fever last night, wasn’t thinking clearly. Please, Mr. Aarav, don’t read too much into it.”

I could see Vincent recognizing my attempt to push him away, but he refused to budge. “I’m staying put. If you want Amara for company, fine. I’ll be here at the hospital, and you can pretend I don’t exist.”

Amara walked into my room then, placing the lily bouquet she’d brought on my bedside table and setting a fruit basket on the coffee table.

Seeing Vincent’s stubborn determination, something seemed to click for Amara–she suddenly grasped just how much I meant to him.

Someone as proud as Vincent, now standing here so defeated and exposed before me… it was almost

unbelievable.

Kingsley’s attention had locked onto Amara the

moment she entered.

His gaze held straightforward admiration—nothing concealed, nothing uncomfortable, just honest appreciation that stayed within bounds.

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Amara noticed his stare, glanced his direction, and offered Kingsley a courteous nod.

Seeing Vincent’s refusal to leave, I sighed in defeat. “Fine, do what you want.”

I figured if he wouldn’t go, I could find my own way to

make him leave.

Turning to Amara, I said, “Amara, I want to take a

walk.”

Amara hurried to my bedside, leaning down to help me

1. up.

But Vincent, who’d been watching me intently, asked in a low, worried voice, “You’re still recovering. Where are you planning to go?”

I threw off my covers and looked directly at Vincent. “I’m going to check on Zain. He spent the whole night with Carry, so it’s my turn to relieve him. The man

needs rest.”

I said it deliberately, just to provoke Vincent.

Really, all I wanted was Vincent out of here–nothing more, nothing less.

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But as I started climbing off the bed, Vincent suddenly grabbed my wrist, his gaze icy and fierce as he stared me down. “Blanche, you’re still sick. I won’t let you go

see them.”

I didn’t even attempt to pull free. I faced him directly and said straight to his face, “Zain is my husband, Carry is my daughter. If I shouldn’t see them, who should I see? You? And what exactly are you to me?”

The hospital room’s air practically vibrated with tension as Vincent and I faced off.

Kingsley finally pulled his attention from Amara and looked at Vincent. One glance told him everything— Vincent was truly furious.

0

As for me? I was equally angry.

Vincent didn’t just maintain his grip–he tightened it, his dark, cutting eyes locking with mine as he leaned closer and spoke in a low, almost growling voice. “That’s right, Blanche. You should see me–because I’m your lover. Your only one.”

I never expected Vincent to say something like that. I froze in shock.

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If we’d been alone, I could have pretended I never

heard it.

But we had witnesses–Kingsley and Amara were right here.

And Kingsley was Vincent’s close friend. Yet here Vincent was, creating this scene in front of his own buddy, like pride and dignity meant nothing to him.

I stared at him, completely speechless. “Vincent, you…”

Vincent tried pulling me into his arms, but as he got closer, all I could think of was him kissing Joanna.

A wave of resistance crashed over me, and I shoved Vincent away hard, then jumped down from the bed.

Standing barefoot on the cold floor, I turned to

Vincent and said, “Forget about last night. Those roles you think you have in my life–I never agreed to any of it.”

With that, I slipped on my shoes, took Amara’s hand, and said, “Come on, Amara, let’s go.”

Amara had no clue what had just transpired, so she simply followed my lead.

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As we started to leave, Kingsley suddenly called out, “Blanche, are you sure you’re not misunderstanding Vincent? If something’s bothering you, you really should talk it through with him. Honestly, I know Vincent better than anyone–he seriously only has eyes for you.”

I stopped, hesitated briefly, then looked back at Kingsley. “Mr. Jim, thank you for being here today. I appreciate it, truly. And I’m grateful to Mr. Aarav for coming too. But as for misunderstandings–there are

none between me and Mr. Aarav.”

As I turned to leave, Kingsley looked like he wanted to say more, but Vincent stopped him. “Kingsley, just drop it.”

Kingsley frowned, worry written all over his face. “Blanche must be misunderstanding you. I’ll go talk to her and clear things up.”

I could hear them talking behind me as I walked toward the door, but I didn’t look back. From the corner of my eye, I saw Vincent grab Kingsley’s hand, and I caught fragments of his voice–something about it being over, about losing. His tone sounded defeated,

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broken even, but I forced myself to keep walking.

I couldn’t let myself care about Vincent’s pain anymore. Not after what I’d seen.

Amara and I took the elevator down and headed to the hospital’s garden.

When we reached the gazebo, Amara looked around and asked, somewhat confused, “Weren’t we going to see Zain and Carry? Why did we end up here instead?”

I sat quietly on a stone bench, not answering Amara’s question. My eyes began to fill with tears.

Amara saw how upset I was and stepped over to give me a gentle embrace. “Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked softly.

I didn’t explain. I just pressed my face against Amara’s shoulder and murmured, “I just need a hug.”

Amara didn’t ask more questions. She gently patted my head and said, “You should’ve told me you were in the hospital. I would’ve come immediately.”

I mumbled, “I’m sorry, Amara.”

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Amara let out a small laugh. “Those things you said just now… You didn’t really mean them, did you? Or were you just upset?”

I didn’t answer directly. After a pause, I said softly, “Just treat it like a dream. When we wake up, everything will be fine.”