Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 1

The bedroom was swallowed in darkness.

Every sensation seemed amplified, almost unbearably so.

After a month apart, Stewart’s intensity was almost frightening.

Briony struggled, but it was futile; in the end, she could only grit her teeth and endure.

Outside, the snow fell harder and harder, the wind howling around the house.

She lost track of time. Eventually, Briony was left completely spent, her skin clammy with sweat.

A dull ache lingered in her abdomen.

She thought of her period, which was late again. Summoning her courage, she tried to say, “Stewart, I—”

But Stewart, clearly dissatisfied with her distraction, only grew rougher, his demanding kisses swallowing any protest.

When it was finally over, dawn had yet to break.

Briony was so exhausted her mind felt foggy, the ache in her lower belly persistent—dull, not sharp, but impossible to ignore.

His phone began to ring.

She forced herself awake and opened her eyes, vision blurry. She could just make out Stewart’s silhouette as he walked over to the window to answer the call.

The room was so quiet, she could hear the faint, flirtatious voice coming from the other end of the line.

Stewart soothed whoever it was with a patience and gentleness he never spared for his wife, who lay half-asleep beside him.

Moments later, the sound of a car starting drifted up from the driveway.

Stewart was gone.

—

When Briony woke up the next morning, the spot beside her was still cold.

She rolled over, pressing a hand to her abdomen.

The pain had faded.

Her phone rang again. This time, it was Stewart’s mother—Fiona Clarke.