The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 279

Finished

Blanche’s POV

1

Relief washed over me as Vincent stepped through the

door.

My stomach had been twisted in knots, terrified that Zain might spot Vincent and completely lose it, making life hell for my family.

I could handle whatever he threw at me, but my family? That worry gnawed at me constantly.

Glancing down at the living room again, I watched Zain guide Carry by the hand to the sofa.

Quinton, Amber, and Roger had stepped out, leaving Irene by herself.

Irene froze when she saw Zain and Carry enter, clearly unsure how to react.

Then Zain broke the silence, addressing Irene directly:

“Mom.”

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Irene heard him but remained unmoved–she couldn’t care less about responding.

With Carry watching though, she forced herself to maintain appearances and managed a weak, “Mm.”

After Irene’s response, Zain cleared his throat before asking, “Where’s Blanche?”

Irene’s eyes flicked toward the stairs as she tried to stay composed. “She’s probably helping Camila get cleaned up,” she told Zain.

Her voice carried deliberately, ensuring I’d catch the

warning.

Once Carry settled onto the couch, she curled up like a small, fragile thing. Still recovering from her illness, she seemed drained of energy.

If she weren’t still sick, she’d probably already be throwing one of her tantrums at me, whimpering things like “You don’t love me anymore, you don’t want me…“–her usual performance.

But without me in sight, Carry lacked the motivation for theatrics.

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Irene’s expression grew tender as she gazed at Carry, her eyes misting slightly. Their meetings were rare, but Irene cherished her granddaughter deeply.

Even though Carry barely acknowledged her, Irene approached carefully and asked, “Carry, did you have any breakfast?”

Carry cracked her eyes open, gave Irene a brief look, then simply shook her head without speaking.

Irene reached out to stroke Carry’s hair gently, her heart aching. “What would you like to eat? Tell Grandma, and I’ll make it for you.”

Carry considered this but felt no hunger stirring. “I don’t really feel like…”

Zain interrupted before she could finish. “Mom, just prepare some noodles for her.”

“Of course, I’ll start immediately,” Irene responded.

I stood on the second floor, taking in the scene below.

Hearing Zain call Irene “Mom” left me stunned–the sound didn’t compute.

Years had passed without him ever using that word.

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Yet here he was, saying it four or five times in mere

minutes.

With divorce papers looming, Zain’s behavior made no sense to me. What game is he playing? I wondered.

Camila’s small hand tugged at mine.

I looked down as Camila said urgently, “Aunt Blanche, we’ll be late!”

“Right, let’s go—I’ll drive you to school now,” I replied hastily.

Taking Camila’s hand, I hurried toward the stairs.

Zain heard our footsteps and immediately looked up.

The second he saw me, he sprang from his seat instinctively.

Zain flashed a slight smile. “I’m here to take you outfit shopping.”

He cut straight to business without waiting for questions.

I understood instantly. “I need to get Camila to school, so shopping’s out for today. Maybe later.”

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I was testing him, hoping he’d drop it.

Zain responded quickly, “No problem! We’ll drop by Camila’s school first.”

“That’s not on your route,” I shot back without

hesitation.

But Zain persisted, “I told you, it’s on my way.”

My frown deepened, irritation creeping into my voice. “Zain, honestly—”

Zain didn’t let me explode.

He turned to Carry instead, lowering his voice.

“Carry, didn’t you say you missed your mom? She’s here now, so why the silence?”

Carry straightened on the couch and looked up at me.

For a moment, she seemed ready to dash over and let me scoop her up like before.

But she held back, despite the longing.

It had been so long since I’d held her.

Just last night, fevering and miserable, Carry had

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yearned for the old me–her former mom.

Now though, I felt like a stranger to her.

After hesitating, Carry finally managed a soft, “Mom.”

I let my expression soften and replied gently, “Mm.”

Carry noticed Camila in her adorable kindergarten uniform with her little backpack, looking precious and

sweet.

Seeing Camila dressed that way made Carry’s heart

clench.

Almost involuntarily, she explained to me, “I still have a fever today, so Dad got me excused. I’m not attending kindergarten.”

I hadn’t expected Carry to justify herself, and since I wasn’t trying to be difficult, I simply said, “Mm.”

But my cold, distant attitude prompted Carry to suddenly ask, “Mom, can you take me somewhere fun?”

She hadn’t enjoyed any outings in ages.

Zain stayed buried in work, and Joanna remained

<

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absorbed in her research.

These days, Carry just stayed home alone.

She’d grown completely bored with her toys–she’d played with everything until it lost all appeal.

I responded icily, “If you’re sick, you should rest at home–quit thinking about entertainment constantly.”

Just then, Irene emerged from the kitchen carrying a

bowl of noodles.

As soon as Irene appeared and heard me snap at Carry, she set the bowl down and scolded, “Carry’s just a child–why are you being so harsh with her?”

I swallowed but didn’t respond to Irene.

Irene placed the bowl on the coffee table, knelt in front of Carry with a warm smile, and said, “Carry, look! Grandma made these noodles specially for you, with a layer of my finest homemade meat sauce on top. Try some–once you eat, you’ll have energy to beat this illness.”

Carry glanced at the noodles–they looked delicious, the meat topping especially appetizing.

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She swallowed hungrily, almost saying “okay,” when she suddenly noticed–only one bowl sat there, nothing for Zain.

Realizing her dad had nothing made Carry’s face fall. No matter how hungry she felt, she forced herself not to touch the food.

Irene saw her reluctance and asked, puzzled, “Carry, what’s wrong?”

Carry turned away, snapping, “No–I don’t want noodles. I want pizza.”

Irene looked distressed.

Pizza? I’ve never attempted pizza, she thought.

But seeing Carry’s desire, Irene almost offered to learn

how to make it.

Before Irene could speak though, I turned to Zain and said, “Take Carry home. About the shopping, I’ll contact you when I’m available.”

Zain stood and said, “I need to handle some office paperwork. I’ll leave Carry with you today. After I finish this afternoon, I’ll come get her.”

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Without waiting for my agreement, Zain took Carry’s hand and started toward the stairs.

With Vincent still upstairs, I quickly blocked Zain’s path. “No,” I said firmly.

Zain stopped, confusion filling his eyes as he tried to understand what was happening.

Camila tugged anxiously at my hand. “Aunt Blanche, we’ll be late! If I’m tardy, my teacher will take away my red star stickers.”

I didn’t even blink. Looking at Zain, I said, “I have to get Camila to school–I can’t watch Carry today. Find someone else.”

With that, I grabbed Camila’s hand and headed straight for the door.

Walking past Carry, I didn’t even glance her way.

That “someone else” in my words–it was crystal clear who I meant.

Zain and Carry remained on the couch, frozen and looking completely displaced.

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It seemed like the Blanche they once knew would

never return.

Zain could sense it–no matter how desperately he tried to fix things, I simply wouldn’t budge. She’s truly finished with me, he thought miserably.

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