The Marriage She Turned into War novel Chapter 308

Otherwise, Abigail wouldn't have given me a heads-up like that.

As those thoughts ran through my mind, Abigail reached out and gently held my hand. Her voice softened as she said, "Once I'm done with work, let's take a little trip together. We could really use the break. What do you think?"

I looked at her calmly and nodded, keeping my expression neutral. But deep down, the idea rubbed me the wrong way.

Abigail's past trips with Joshua flashed through my mind. Her social media had been plastered with pictures of them—laughing, holding hands, and flaunting their so-called happiness for the world to see.

Those memories made the thought of traveling unbearable. It wasn't just a trip; it was a reminder of everything she'd done.

Abigail seemed to pick up on my unease. She cupped my face with her hands, smiling softly. "We can stay home if you're not up for going out. I'll spend time here with you instead."

Her words only made me more uncomfortable. I couldn't help but think of all the other men she must've said something similar to. It felt hollow, rehearsed.

I stepped back slightly, creating a little space between us. "Hey, are you hungry? The fish chowder I made is still fresh, but it won't be as good once it cools down," I said lightly, steering the conversation elsewhere. "You wouldn't want all my hard work to go to waste, would you?"

Abigail hesitated for a moment, then smiled and followed me to the dining table. She sat down obediently, sipping the soup I placed before her. Her gaze stayed on me, soft and almost too tender, as if she were trying to read my thoughts.

"Samuel," she said suddenly, setting her spoon down. "About what we talked about last time... have you given it more thought?"

Her words sent a sharp jolt through my chest.

I knew she was working up to something. I could almost feel the gears turning in her head, calculating her next move.

But before I could respond, she reached over and patted the back of my hand, her smile unwavering.

"And about Lana," she added, her tone lighter. "She's doing better, isn't she? I was thinking that the guest room downstairs would be perfect for her. We could redecorate it and make it comfortable. We can bring her here and take care of her when she's discharged. What do you think?"

Her suggestion sounded sincere and even kind.