The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 272

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Joanna

Blanche’s POVO

When Zain brought up going home with him, his tone was dead serious—not a trace of playfulness in his eyes–so I didn’t read too much into it.

I pushed back with clear reluctance, “Blissfield Villa and Alexander Villa are your places, not mine. I’m not coming back with you.”

Seeing my refusal, Zain’s expression turned stormy.

His voice dropped low as he said, “Don’t forget what I told you before.”

I blinked, drawing a blank, and asked him, “What did you tell you?”

Right then, the light turned green.

Traffic clogged the street, and Zain’s car inched forward, trapped in the gridlock.

I stared at Zain’s profile, bewilderment in my eyes, as

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he spoke in that bone–chilling calm voice: “We’re doing this again.”

Honestly, even if Zain hadn’t reminded me, I would’ve remembered that on my own.

But considering how dead serious he’d looked moments ago, I really hadn’t expected him to bring that up.

Besides, there wasn’t any real reason for us to do it again.

I just hadn’t expected him to actually voice it.

Once I understood what Zain was getting at, I suddenly stopped caring about who had leaked the news about Amara Jerry.

Zain only found out because he had the resources to dig it up.

But if someone else had spread it around, with Amara Jerry’s level of fame, it would’ve blown up on social media.

Yet the trending topics stayed completely quiet about Amara Jerry.

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After I worked through it all in my head, I finally felt my nerves settle. I turned to Zain and said, “You’re driving, so I won’t fight with you. The only reason we’re even sharing this car tonight is because of Carry.”

With that, I went quiet.

Zain, meanwhile, kept sneaking looks at me.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that I had somehow changed.

I kept my eyes fixed on my phone, but Vincent still hadn’t responded. I just sent him a “?” in our chat.

When Vincent continued to ignore my message, I finally sent him an explanation: “About what I said to you earlier I only said that because everything was so chaotic at the time. Please don’t take it seriously. I hope you can forgive me.”

After I sent the message, I waited nervously for Vincent’s response. When it finally came through, I could practically feel the relief radiating from his words: “I know, I’ve known all along. I just got jealous watching you be so good to Zain–that’s why I acted all

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moody.”

The instant I saw Vincent’s response, my heart finally found peace. I typed back: “I wasn’t being good to him. There’s no way for us to return to how things used to be between us. I know we’ll end up divorced

eventually.”

Vincent shot back: “I understand. No hard feelings.”

I simply sent a brief “Mm.”

Seeing my quick response, Vincent didn’t seem satisfied and messaged again: “And don’t let him touch you.”

I let out a quiet laugh and texted back: “Mm.”

Vincent: “And he can’t even come close. You need to keep at least a few meters between you.”

Zain was driving, and I didn’t dare keep my head down texting. I was afraid he might start interrogating me.

So I kept my responses brief: “Mm.”

Vincent still wasn’t satisfied. He kept messaging me: “No way, you have to promise me–the kind where you say ‘If I lie to you, I’m a puppy.“”

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I replied, “Fine, fine.”

Vincent pressed: “Nope! You have to say the whole thing. Promise me—if you ever lie to me, you’ll become a puppy.”

I couldn’t argue with him, so I gave in and started typing it out in the chat.

But before I could finish typing, the car stopped.

Zain turned to me and said, “We’re here.”

As soon as I heard Zain’s voice, I quickly hid my phone.

The way I tried to conceal it made it obvious I was hiding something.

But Zain didn’t comment.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out of the car.

I didn’t wait for Zain–without even a glance back, I headed toward the hospital on my own.

But I’d barely taken a few steps when Zain called after me, “Blanche.”

I stopped and turned around, meeting Zain’s eyes directly. I asked with focus, “What is it?”

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Zain got out of the car, his trench coat hanging open, radiating effortless appeal and magnetism.

He walked toward me, the wind catching the edge of his coat, the simple shirt underneath accentuating his lean build.

But now, not a single inappropriate thought about him entered my mind.

Once Zain got close, he leaned slightly toward me, his gaze intense and earnest. “Do you think… is there any possibility for us to go back to how things used to be?”

His words caught me completely off guard.

I stood there, shocked, my mind going completely blank for a long moment.

I didn’t understand what he was trying to say, and I certainly couldn’t figure out what he meant by that.

So I stayed silent, choosing not to respond.

After a pause, I just asked, “Aren’t we going in to see Carry?”

Zain looked somewhat stunned himself—honestly, he

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seemed to have no idea why those words had even left his mouth.

Once he collected himself, he turned to me and said, “Yeah, let’s go in together.”

The entire walk, I couldn’t help feeling on edge, my mind racing with theories about what Zain was really thinking.

What did he actually mean when he said all that?

No matter how much I tried to figure it out, I just couldn’t decode what he was getting at.

Once at the hospital, Zain walked ahead, with me following quietly behind him, lost in my own thoughts.

We soon reached the floor where Carry’s room was

located.

Just as we approached the door, the sound of Carry’s crying reached us.

Inside, we heard Miss Joanna’s soothing voice, trying to comfort her: “Carry, your daddy went to get your mommy. Auntie’s here with you, okay? How about we stop crying, hm?”

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Carry gave a small nod, but tears continued streaming down her cheeks.

Just as Joanna finished speaking, Zain pushed the door open and walked in.

As I followed him into the room, I saw Joanna holding Carry, one arm supporting her from below and the other gently cradling her back.

Joanna looked so exhausted, she was practically pale

as paper.

Without hesitation, Zain walked over and said, “Joanna, give Carry to me. You look worn out.”

When Joanna saw Zain walk in, with me right behind him, that strange sense of discomfort washed over her again.

But she didn’t say anything–just obediently handed Carry over to Zain, without any protest.

As Zain took Carry into his arms, he leaned down and pressed his cheek against hers affectionately.

After checking that she wasn’t running a fever, he finally released a quiet sigh of relief.

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Carry buried her face in Zain’s shoulder, her voice hoarse as she called out, “Daddy.”

Hearing that, Zain’s heart melted with warmth.

He gently patted his daughter on the back and responded softly, “Daddy’s here. Daddy’s right here.”

Carry was feeling dizzy from her fever, but she still noticed me standing off to the side in the room.

Even seeing me, Carry didn’t bother to acknowledge

1. me.

Zain sensed something was off and bent down to ask, “Mommy’s here too. Why won’t you call her?”

Carry glanced at me briefly, then quickly looked away.

Still nestled against Zain’s shoulder, she mumbled, “Daddy, I want Aunt Joanna to hold me.”