The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 287

287 Chapter 287 Learning How To

Love

Zain’s POVO

I didn’t waste words—just swept Blanche into my arms and carried her straight to the guest room.

No arguments, no pressure. I simply did what she wanted and took her to the guest room.

When I lowered her onto the bed, Blanche looked a bit stunned, and I caught her thinking that maybe I really had changed.

In the past, I wouldn’t have given a damn what anyone else thought.

When I wanted something, I made it happen–my way, always.

I pulled the covers over Blanche, then stood beside the bed, studying her with careful eyes.

Eventually, I broke the silence. “Rest up. I’m heading downstairs for a while.”

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My gentle tone seemed to catch Blanche off guard.

She stayed quiet though.

I’d taken a few steps when I stopped, turned back, and approached the bed again.

Leaning down, I spoke softly. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be right downstairs.”

Blanche’s brow creased slightly before she nodded. “Alright.”

With that, I finally went downstairs.

Heidi was working in the kitchen when I walked in.

I stood by the doorway while Heidi busied herself at the stove.

She glanced my way but stayed silent.

I finished my cigarette before speaking.

“Does Mrs. Jacob actually enjoy chicken soup?”

Heidi nodded. “She really does.”

I filed that away, then continued, “Keep her meals light over the next few days. Skip anything spicy–her

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stomach can’t handle it.”

Heidi looked surprised but quickly agreed. “Of course.”

I lingered there, making no move to leave.

Heidi kept glancing over, obviously puzzled why I was still hanging around.

When our eyes met, I finally asked, “What else does she like? Snacks, beverages, fruit, clothes, colors— whatever comes to mind.”

Heidi was stirring the chicken soup when my words made her hand freeze mid–motion.

She only snapped out of it when a small flame flared up beside the pan.

Turning down the heat, she looked at me with curiosity and concern. “Mr. Jacob, is something wrong?”

In Heidi’s experience, I’d never shown this kind of detailed interest in Blanche before.

Seeing Heidi’s confusion, I kept my expression hard as I said, “Just tell me what I need to know.”

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Heidi hesitated before answering, “Mrs. Jacob enjoys chicken soup, shrimp, corn, potatoes, beef, chili peppers, okra, taro, jackfruit, apples, and watermelon. She drinks orange juice and coffee, and I believe her preferred colors are black and blue. Beyond that, I’m

not certain.”

I absorbed every detail Heidi shared, nodding with

focus. “Understood. I’ll remember that.”

I started toward the kitchen exit.

But as I reached the doorway, Heidi called out urgently, “Mr. Jacob!”

I stopped and turned, slightly puzzled. “What is it?”

Heidi’s voice grew gentler, tinged with worry. “Mr. Jacob, if you truly want Mrs. Jacob back, simply knowing her food preferences won’t be sufficient, will it?”

I hadn’t expected Heidi to pick up on things so fast. I asked directly, “What else should I be doing?”

Heidi replied, “What woman could tolerate another woman hovering around her husband? Mr. Jacob, you

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need to decide who you actually want beside you.”

I knew Heidi was referring to Joanna. I nodded. “Right, I’ll handle it.”

As I moved to leave, Heidi quickly added, “You two have a child together, Mr. Jacob. You should consider what growing up without their mother would do to them. Like they say, no matter how wonderful someone else’s mother might be, your own is irreplaceable. The same goes for children–nothing compares to being with their real mother.”

I understood Heidi’s implication, but I didn’t respond. I just turned and left the kitchen.

The moment I stepped out, my phone rang.

It was Desmond.

Desmond said, “Mr. Jacob, you’ve been absent from the office for days. Documents are stacking up waiting for

your review and signature, and several clients are already pressuring us.”

I replied, “Understood.”

I knew I couldn’t delay returning to the office much

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longer.

After ending the call, I went back upstairs.

Reaching the guest room, I knocked gently.

“Blanche, may I come in?”

Inside, Blanche was feeling low, but hearing my voice, she responded, “Come in.”

I opened the door and settled on the bed’s edge. Taking Blanche’s hand, I didn’t want to release it. “I have to head to the office soon, so I won’t be able to have lunch with you.”

Her heart was probably screaming yes countless times, but Blanche kept her emotions hidden, showing nothing on her face.

She nodded softly. “Alright.”

After that, Blanche and I just looked at each other silently, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words.

If this were before, Blanche would’ve reminded me to be careful or worried about every detail. But now, she had nothing more to say.

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I felt a hollow ache in my chest, but there wasn’t anything else I could add.

I hesitated briefly, then asked playfully, “So, may I kiss you?”

Blanche’s expression turned cold as she replied, “Is that really required between us?”

I smiled gently. “Don’t they say women enjoy a touch of romance?”

Blanche laughed. “Zain, I’m not a child

nearly thirty.”

anymore–I’m

My eyes were deep and intense as I held her gaze. “To me, you’ll always be you.”

But honestly, how could things ever return to how they were? Blanche couldn’t help thinking to herself.

She knew in her heart that she wasn’t the same

woman anymore.

Blanche didn’t respond. She simply said, “Go ahead. Drive safely.”

Hearing Blanche finally tell me to be careful, I smiled.

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“I’ll message you when I arrive. Just rest, okay? I’ll have Heidi bring your lunch up.”

Blanche nodded. “Okay.”

I made sure Blanche was comfortable, but instead of standing immediately, I hesitated, then leaned in and softly kissed her forehead.

Blanche hadn’t even had time to react before I was

already up and heading out.

Downstairs, I told Heidi, “Heidi, please take lunch up to Mrs. Jacob. She’s staying upstairs today.”

Heidi smiled and nodded. “Certainly.”

Just as I stepped outside, my phone rang.

I checked–it was Joanna.

Concerned something might have happened to Carry,

I answered immediately.

Joanna’s voice sounded rough as she said, “Zain?”

I replied, “Joanna, what’s the matter?”

When I called her “Joanna,” she felt her heart drop, disappointment settling over her quietly.

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Still, she couldn’t mask her worry and burst out, “Where are you? What are you doing right now? Are you planning to visit me at the hospital later?”

Hearing this, I frowned, feeling disturbed.

For an instant, I was thrown off–Joanna sounded exactly like Blanche used to, and it left me strangely unsettled.

And somehow, that eerie similarity made something inside me pull back, an unusual discomfort climbing in my chest.

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