The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 299

299 Chapter 299 Like A Real Family

Joanna collapsed onto the floor, clutching her wounded leg while releasing a soft whimper of pain.

She gazed up at Zain with wounded eyes that sparkled with mischief and remorse. Her voice came out barely above a whisper, almost begging. “I know you’re angry with me… I just needed to see you, that’s all.”

Zain remained motionless on the bed, striking a match to light his cigarette. He refused to look at Joanna, instead fixing his stare on the void ahead, his expression gradually sharpening with concentration.

He inhaled deeply, then expelled all the smoke in one forceful exhale. His voice emerged rough and gravelly when he finally spoke to Joanna. “Since Carry’s fine, I suppose there’s no point staying angry with you.”

Joanna’s forehead creased with concern, her voice trembling. “Zain, you’re really not mad at me

anymore?”

Zain drew slowly on his cigarette, allowing the quiet to

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build before flashing her a mocking smile. “What, are

you hoping I’m still pissed?”

Joanna’s tension melted away, a radiant smile lighting

up her features. “Of course not! I never want you angry with me.”

Zain flicked ash into the bedside tray and narrowed his eyes at Joanna, his voice emotionless. “If I was truly angry, you think you’d be sitting here unharmed?”

Joanna burst out eagerly, “Zain, I knew you still had feelings for me!”

Zain didn’t argue. After a brief silence, he responded indifferently, “Perhaps.”

Joanna noticed Zain’s distant expression and couldn’t stop herself from thinking, ‘Blanche really shattered

his heart!‘

Using the floor for leverage, Joanna pushed herself upright and spoke tenderly, “Zain, can I spend the night with you?”

Zain glanced at her briefly, then released a scornful laugh. “Spend the night? For what reason?”

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Joanna’s intentions were obvious, but Zain acted

oblivious.

Joanna wavered, her face turning crimson as she stuttered, “Zain, you know perfectly well what I mean.”

Zain chuckled softly. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

Joanna summoned her nerve and approached, settling beside him on the bed’s edge. She moved closer to Zain and breathed, “If you’re tender with me tonight… I’ll give myself to you.”

Zain raised his eyes to hers, that mocking smile still playing on his lips. After a pause, he answered, “Do you really believe I have any gentleness in me?”

Joanna’s pulse quickened. She pressed her lip between her teeth, dropping her gaze bashfully as she

whispered, “If you don’t want to be tender… that’s fine

too.”

Zain took his final drag, blowing the smoke directly into Joanna’s face. With complete disinterest, he stated, “Go spend time with Carry.”

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Joanna’s heart lurched. Pain crept into her voice as she said, “Zain, I’ve been here supporting you all along, but you’ve never even attempted to get intimate with me.

I…”

Zain raised an eyebrow, his tone suddenly sharp. “You believe I don’t desire you?”

He left the question hanging, loaded with challenge- making his position unmistakable.

Joanna dropped her head, feeling a wave of remorse.

There was a period when Zain had demonstrated his desire for something deeper with her.

But then, Lillian had cautioned her, “Men don’t value what’s easily obtained.”

So Joanna maintained her boundaries and never allowed things to progress completely.

Lillian always insisted, “A man only begins to value you

after he’s spent his time and money first.”

Joanna lifted her eyes to Zain, grasping his hand

desperately. “Zain, I made a mistake.”

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Zain crushed his cigarette in the tray, then softly moved Joanna’s hand away. With unusual gentleness in his voice, he said, “Go back and stay with Carry. You’re still hurt–tonight isn’t appropriate.”

Joanna’s anxiety finally subsided at those words. ‘So he does have feelings for me, at least,’ she told herself. Not wanting Zain to view her as needy, Joanna released a resigned sigh and said, “Fine then.”

Zain nodded at her, his expression softening slightly. “Sleep well.”

Joanna whispered goodnight back, then hobbled out of the room on her injured leg.

Zain observed Joanna’s departure, yet somehow, his thoughts kept drifting to Blanche.

He couldn’t quite identify what was happening inside him.

As the divorce waiting period drew nearer, he kept questioning whether ending things was really the correct choice–or if he’d spend his life regretting it.

Just imagining Blanche, the woman who’d adored him

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so deeply, becoming another man’s wife, destroyed him inside.

Zain settled back against the headboard, lighting another cigarette.

His mind was chaotic, torn between Blanche and Joanna. ‘I can’t figure out who I love anymore, he thought to himself. That night, sleep eluded him almost entirely.

He rose before dawn the following morning.

Wednesday meant Carry needed to attend kindergarten.

But she’d missed several days–the poor child had been battling a fever.

After reviewing his morning newspaper downstairs, Zain climbed the stairs and tapped on Blanche’s door.

He knocked three times briefly, then waited.

From within, Blanche responded, her voice wary, “Who’s there?”

Zain replied, “It’s me.”

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Blanche’s POV

I heard Zain’s voice and my brow furrowed. “What do you need?”

Zain said, “Carry’s going to kindergarten today. How about we drive her together?”

I considered for a moment, then responded softly, “Okay.”

Zain spoke through the door, “Take your time getting ready. Heidi’s already prepared breakfast.”

I answered, “Alright.”

Zain had barely made it downstairs before I joined him.

Today, I chose a light gray coat over jeans, with a fitted white turtleneck underneath and a decorative chain for accent. My shoes matched my coat perfectly–I’d put together a polished look.

I’d obviously spent time preparing. My long hair was freshly shampooed and carried a pleasant, lingering scent, leaving a subtle fragrance trailing behind me.

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I applied some foundation, shaped my eyebrows, added a touch of blush, and used lipstick to enhance

my appearance.

My makeup was subtle, almost invisible, but it

emphasized my features–I looked more beautiful than usual.

As I descended the stairs, Zain’s gaze immediately found me.

Zain rarely saw me wearing makeup, so seeing me now, his heart actually stuttered for a moment.

As I approached, Zain rose as well. “Blanche.”

He spoke my name almost instinctively.

I paused, looked up at him briefly, then quietly responded, “Mm.”

Zain couldn’t look away from me. He simply stared and said, “You look amazing.”

I avoided his gaze, just said, “Let’s eat. Carry will be late for kindergarten.”

Zain nodded. “Alright.”

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Carry was upstairs with Joanna, who was helping her dress.

Zain and I were midway through breakfast when Joanna came rushing to the staircase top, sounding extremely worried as she shouted, “Zain, Carry feels warm again–she might be running another fever!”

Zain and I both jumped up immediately when we

heard that.

We rushed upstairs, and I asked Heidi to bring a thermometer. I placed it under Carry’s arm to measure her temperature.

Joanna perched on the bed’s edge, her injured leg hanging over the side, cradling Carry in her arms.

Watching Joanna sit there like that, I felt a sudden ache in my chest–I couldn’t help remembering how I’d once been.

Back then, even when I was burning with fever and completely exhausted, I’d still push myself to rise, prepare meals for Carry, and change her diapers. ‘That’s just what motherhood does to you, I thought to myself.

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Zain settled beside Joanna and extended his hand to touch Carry’s forehead, testing for fever.

He and Joanna sat together on the bed’s edge, with Carry resting peacefully in Joanna’s embrace.

For an instant, they appeared exactly like a real family.

I stood there beside the bed, strangely displaced—like an outsider observing someone else’s household.

‘I suppose I’m accustomed to this now, I thought, feeling a quiet resignation wash over me.

After I checked, the thermometer displayed that Carry’s temperature was completely normal.

When I announced that Carry wasn’t fevering, Carry began weeping and pulled at Zain’s sleeve, “Daddy, my

stomach aches.”

I immediately understood what was happening.

Carry wasn’t genuinely ill–she was pretending because she didn’t want to attend kindergarten.

As her mother, I could see straight through her little performance.