The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 204

204 Chapter 204 Dreaming Of Him

Again

Blanche’s POV

Carry’s tears welled up instantly as Zain spoke. I could see her wondering silently, ‘Why does everything always end up this way?‘

“But Dad, how long will Mr. Oswald be staying?” Carry asked, her voice wavering.

Zain hesitated, weighing his response carefully.

“To be honest, I’m not sure. Could be a week, maybe a month, or possibly even a year…”

From Oswald’s behavior, it seemed he intended to make Zain’s place his permanent home.

Carry harbored no resentment toward Oswald. Her voice quivered with concern as she pressed, “But Dad, what happens when I start longing for Miss Joanna?”

Zain found himself momentarily at a loss, though he managed a comforting smile. “Don’t fret, sweetheart. I’ll work something out.”

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He lacked a concrete solution, yet his reassurance alone brightened Carry’s spirits considerably.

Oswald retreated to rest while Zain climbed the stairs to spend time with Carry, leaving me standing solo in the living room, uncertain of my next move.

Eventually, I decided to head upstairs as well.

Force of habit led me to push open the door to the bedroom Zain and I once shared, the motion as automatic as breathing.

When I flipped the switch, soft pastels flooded the

space.

Lavender bedding adorned the mattress, crisp white furniture filled the room–the armoire, the vanity, everything pristine and pale.

Gentle, muted tones surrounded me completely.

An odd sensation of alienation washed over me as I

stood there.

The arrangement remained identical, yet every item within had been completely transformed.

Previously, I’d limited myself to blacks, whites, and grays–all to satisfy Zain’s preferences.

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Now, Joanna enjoyed complete decorating freedom, expressing her personal style without restraint.

Evidence of Joanna’s presence marked every corner of

the space.

Her brush and skincare/bottles occupied the vanity surface, a medical textbook lay open on the writing desk, an unused eye mask rested near the pillow, and pink house shoes waited beside the bed.

Zain’s belongings were interspersed throughout as well, seamlessly integrated with hers.

Their possessions mingled together, creating a scene worthy of any romantic film.

Zain and I had shared intimate moments in this very

room once.

Now, this space belonged to Zain and Joanna.

‘God knows what activities they’ve enjoyed in here,’ I mused, my imagination spiraling beyond my control.

Lost in these troubling thoughts, I detected footsteps approaching from behind.

Spinning around, I discovered Zain heading in my direction.

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His voice carried a detached quality as he announced, “Seems you’ll be residing at Blissfield Villa for quite some time.”

I remained silent, simply absorbing his words.

Zain made no attempt to pressure me, allowing the quiet to persist.

Following several beats of silence, Zain approached the armoire and pulled it open.

Vibrant garments filled the closet space, with only a tiny corner reserved for Zain’s shirts and business

attire.

Observing the wardrobe arrangement brought back memories of how things once were.

I’d attempted to hang my clothing alongside Zain’s previously, but by morning, either my items would disappear mysteriously, or his would be relocated elsewhere.

I watched Zain rifle through the rainbow of fabrics before extracting a set of soft teal sleepwear.

He faced me, extending the pajamas in my direction. “These are Joanna’s, though I haven’t noticed her

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wearing them—they should be fresh. Use them tonight after you clean up. Bear with this arrangement for now, and tomorrow I’ll ensure you have

accommodations.”

proper

I studied the sleepwear. They certainly differed from the rest, yet I made no move to accept them.

Raising my head, I met Zain’s gaze directly, refusing to yield. “So Zain, exactly when will you inform Grandpa about our impending divorce?”

Zain’s tone grew gentler, almost pleading. “Grandpa’s condition isn’t stable right now… at least, not currently.”

I exhaled slowly. “If you won’t handle it, then I’ll speak with him directly.”

Zain instinctively grasped my hand.

“Please, allow me to address this when the timing’s appropriate. Don’t bring it up now–I simply can’t bear to distress him.”

I had no desire to cause Oswald pain either, so I

gradually extracted my hand from his grip. Once I’d pulled completely free, my voice turned arctic as I declared, “I’ll use the guest room.”

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But Zain immediately caught my arm again.

“Stay here tonight.”

I didn’t struggle against his hold. Tilting my face upward to meet his stare, my voice remained distant and frigid. “Zain, we’re essentially divorced already. Separate bedrooms–that’s the appropriate distance

between us now.”

Only then did Zain gradually release my hand.

Once freed, I turned and departed, not granting Zain even a passing glance.

As for those pajamas in his grasp, I wouldn’t lower myself to wear them.

En route to the guest room, I passed Carry’s bedroom.

The door stood slightly open, and as I walked past, I caught Carry’s voice during a phone conversation. I halted, straining to listen, and heard her saying, “Honestly, I’m completely unhappy that Mom came home today.”

Those words pierced straight through my heart, causing a sharp twist of agony.

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I found myself remembering the former Carry–the adorable, affectionate child who couldn’t bear

separation from me, always trailing behind like my devoted shadow…

‘What actions of mine caused her to despise me now?‘ I wondered, my heart contracting with bewilderment.

Carrying this crushing weight, I straightened my posture and trudged toward the guest room.

I settled into a room that should have provided comfort but now felt completely foreign–and despite every effort, sleep remained elusive.

Since rest wouldn’t come, I retrieved my phone and began browsing videos.

I’d barely launched the app when the initial video featured Joanna once again.

This recording showed Joanna in a bar setting, and- consistent with her previous posts–the camera captured only the man opposite her from the chin downward.

The guy’s face stayed hidden, but when I paused the playback, something struck me—this definitely wasn’t

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+105

Zain. Actually, that hand bore a strong resemblance to

Vincent’s.

If memory served, Vincent consistently displayed a faint scar across his hand.

Indeed, in the video, when the man toasted with

Joanna, that distinctive mark became visible.

The description proclaimed: “Nothing compares to quality companionship, especially from a six–foot–three heartthrob.”

I scrutinized the screen endlessly, examining every frame meticulously. Eventually, I reached absolute certainty–without question, that was Vincent.

For additional confirmation, I even slipped into Zain’s room. He lay completely unconscious, deep in slumber.

So yes, it was confirmed–Vincent was the one sharing drinks with Joanna tonight. I couldn’t possibly be mistaken.

After viewing just that single video, my spirits plummeted entirely–I didn’t bother continuing to scroll.

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Sleep eluded me for what felt like hours. When unconsciousness finally claimed me, I slipped into another dream, my mind unable to break free from this emotional chaos.

In this vision, Vincent once more entered through my window–exactly as he had countless times before, as though it were perfectly routine.

He approached, positioned himself beside me on the mattress, and tenderly drew me into his arms- everything so vivid, so recognizable, it caused heartache even within the dream state.

Half–conscious, I couldn’t prevent myself from murmuring, “Vincent?”

But then, directly against my ear, a deep, almost territorial male voice responded–Zain’s. “Dreaming of him again, are you? So, were you two being intimate in your fantasies, or is that simply your overactive

imagination? Why are your thighs pressed together like that?”

205 Chapter 205 You Are Nobody Special

205 Chapter 205 You Are Nobody