The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 274

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Longing

Zain’s POV@

I had meant to head for the stairwell, but somehow found myself on the rooftop instead.

Something restless churned inside me, refusing to settle.

The wind whipped around me fiercely, but I managed to find enough shelter against the wall to light a cigarette.

The smoke vanished the instant I exhaled, swept away by the gusting air.

One cigarette finished, I immediately sparked another.

Blanche’s face wouldn’t leave my thoughts, flashing through my mind again and again.

I couldn’t name what I was feeling–just this quiet ache, like I already missed her somehow.

She’d only just left, yet the longing hit me like I hadn’t

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seen her in weeks.

I kept telling myself to stop thinking about her, but the more I fought it, the stronger the pull became.

Finally, I gave in and grabbed my phone, firing off a

text.

“Are you home yet?”

A few minutes crawled by before her reply came through: “Yeah. Home.”

Those clipped words made me think of the Blanche I

used to know.

The old Blanche would’ve been blowing up my phone right now.

She’d have told me about every random thing she saw, every person she passed, maybe even some story about bargaining with a street vendor…

Even something as simple as getting home–she never waited for me to ask. She’d always text first: “I’m home!”

Phone still in my hand, I couldn’t stop myself.

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I typed: [Wanna video chat?]

Her response came back instantly: “?”

That single question mark made me smile despite everything.

I replied: [I want to see you.]

When Blanche saw that message, she almost laughed out loud. She started typing, “What? Don’t you trust me?”

But she deleted it before sending.

She hesitated, then swallowed her pride and just sent: “Mm.”

I stared at that “Mm,” waiting for the call that never

came.

Confused, I texted back: “Still not sending the video?”

Blanche’s jaw tightened when she saw his message.

But she sighed and gave in once more.

When she finally called, I answered before the first ring finished.

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Blanche’s face filled my screen instantly.

I couldn’t help grinning as I said, “I’m out on the balcony.”

She looked startled for a moment, then recovered.

“Oh.”

Seeing her already tucked into bed, I asked, “About to sleep?”

She nodded. “Mm.”

Blanche lay stretched across her mattress, one arm emerging from under the covers to hold her phone.

She yawned repeatedly, looking exhausted.

But I wasn’t ready to end this. Instead, I switched gears. “Have you ever regretted it?”

Her forehead creased. “Regretted what?”

I cut straight to it. “Aborting our second child.”

She seemed to hesitate, her expression unreadable for

a moment.

After a tense silence, she chose her words carefully:

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“It’s all in the past. Talking about right and wrong–or regret–doesn’t mean anything now.”

The answer hit me wrong, wind still howling as I locked eyes with her through the screen. “If I’d known you were pregnant, I definitely would’ve wanted you to have the baby.”

She went quiet for a moment, something flickering across her face that I couldn’t quite read.

Finally, she told me, “But the world doesn’t work on ‘what ifs.“”

I went quiet, my cigarette burning down between my fingers.

When it was done, I spoke again, voice softer than usual. “There’s a party this weekend. Why don’t you come with me?”

I’d never been one to drag Blanche to events.

But lately, she dominated my thoughts.

She didn’t refuse outright. “Let’s see about it when the weekend comes.”

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But I wouldn’t let her dodge. “Alright, I’ll come by and pick you up this weekend.”

Blanche didn’t respond. She rubbed her eyes, faking sleepiness. “Zain, I want to sleep now.”

I could see how tired she was.

Even though I didn’t want to let her go, I softened my voice. “Alright. Goodnight.”

After a pause, she said, “Mm.”

Just as she reached for the hang–up button, I called

out, “Wait.”

She froze, confused. “What?”

I watched her through the screen, feeling awkward as

hell. “Give me a kiss?”

She looked like she couldn’t believe what she’d heard.

But I just kept staring, waiting.

Flustered, she blurted, “I’m hanging up now!”

Before I could say another word, the call ended.

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Blanche’s POV

The moment I hung up, my heart hammered against my ribs and unease crept through me.

All those strange things Zain had said tonight— something was seriously wrong with him.

When he’d asked about regret, the word “Never” had almost flown out of my mouth–the honest truth sitting right there. But I caught myself. One wrong word could set Zain off, and with the divorce hanging in the balance, I couldn’t afford to screw this up.

His words about wanting me to have the baby had stunned me for a moment. The memory of nearly dying during Carry’s birth–that terrifying amniotic embolism–still made my blood run cold. But whenever Zain talked about a second child, he never mentioned what I’d endured. He said “have the baby” like it was simple, but I’d be the one gambling with my life. Relief flooded through me. Thank God I hadn’t kept that

pregnancy. If I had, facing all that again… I wasn’t sure I would’ve survived.

But exhaustion weighed me down too heavily to think

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about it more. My head hit the pillow and I was gone.

Sleep brought nightmares–twisted replays of who I

used to be.

Desperate, always apologizing, sacrificing everything just to make him happy…

I jerked awake, heart racing in the suffocating darkness. Alone, surrounded by shadows as thick as the regret choking my chest.

The curtains blocked every trace of light; I couldn’t see my own hand in front of my face.

Those fragmented dreams left me gasping, each memory twisting something sharp inside me.

Alone in the blackness, I finally broke–buried my

face in my hands and sobbed quietly, completely lost.

When the tears dried up, I pressed my palms together and prayed desperately for the divorce to go smoothly.

Only then would I finally be free to start over.

A soft rustling by the window caught my attention— then a shadow tumbled inside, rolling under the curtain.

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I couldn’t make out who it was. Panic shot through me as I fumbled in the dark, searching for the light switch.

But warm, strong hands caught mine before I could reach it.

The touch felt familiar.

Instead of pulling away, I whispered hesitantly, “Vincent?”

He settled beside me and wrapped his arm gently around my shoulders, his voice low and soft. “Yeah, it’s

me.”

I peered toward his voice, bewildered. “Why did you climb in through the window again?”

In the darkness, Vincent scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Guess it’s just a habit by now.”