His Belated Love for the Abandoned Ex-Wife Free Preview

On the night of her twenty-sixth birthday, Iris Whitlow didn't get a surprise—she got a shock.

Surrounded by a few friends, she pushed open the door to the club. The lights were dim, the music was slow and sultry, and several women in revealing outfits danced with practiced seduction, all curves and fire.

It was a full-on sensory assault—s*x, liquor, and money, served raw.

"Uh... wrong room," Celeste Monroe said, looping her arm through Iris's. "Ours is next door."

Iris yanked her arm back. She looked at Julian Everhart, sitting there on the couch like nothing happened. Her face didn't move, but inside, something cracked. Her chest tightened. Every breath hurt a little more. The room wasn't spinning exactly, but everything felt... off, like the air had gotten too heavy to breathe.

They'd been married for two years. She knew he had a reputation—rumors, women, late nights. But seeing this with her own eyes still made something inside her shatter.

Julian saw her too. He didn't flinch. His face was calm, eyes blank, like none of it mattered.

Lily Prescott waved the dancers away, killed the music, and got to her feet. "Relax, Iris. Don't read into it. We were just having some fun."

"Iris?" One of the guys nearby looked panicked. He glanced at Julian, then back at her. "It's really not what you think."

Julian didn't say a word. He just kept drinking.

Lily shrugged. "Come on. It was just a show. I was here the whole time, nothing was gonna happen. You're not seriously mad over something this small, right?"

Hearing that, Iris finally turned to look at her. She was decent-looking. Someone who'd grown up with Julian, always playing the loyal little sister.

Iris hadn't said a word since she walked in. Angry? Hardly. But this woman definitely knew how to act innocent.

"My mistake," Iris said. She forced the tightness in her throat down and turned away.

Out in the hallway, her friends rushed to catch up, some of them visibly fuming.

Celeste grabbed her again. "Iris, our room's just ahead. Where are you going?"

Iris stopped and stared at her. "Let's just delete each other's numbers. Don't contact me again."

The others froze.

Celeste looked stunned. "Are you serious right now? Your husband's cheating, and somehow I'm the one getting cut off? We've been best friends for years, and you're dumping me over him?"

Celeste had to throw this stupid party. She dragged Iris to a club she couldn't stand, just to play it cool and pretend none of this was about her?

Iris held it in with everything she had. "What did Lily offer you?"

Celeste hesitated. Her eyes darted away. "I..."

Iris cut her off. "I've been married to Julian for two years. I know exactly who he is. I'm not a fool. I don't need you two teaming up to push me into divorce."

Celeste's eyes flickered, and her fingers trembled as she tried to reach for her. "I just didn't want to see you keep getting hurt."

Iris stepped back to avoid her touch. "We're done."

She didn't need a friend who'd trade her in for a favor. She walked away, her pace racing, disgust boiling in her gut. Behind her, Celeste got surrounded by everyone else.

"Seriously? It's her birthday. What the hell was that?"

"You actually took something from Lily?"

"This was your idea of a surprise?"

...

The room still reeked of whiskey. But no one spoke.

There was a thick pressure in the air, like the tension had a weight of its own.

Julian threw back another shot, his body slouched against the couch. His expression was unreadable, but the annoyance in his eyes said everything. He tugged at his tie and noticed the blindfold from earlier still hanging around his neck. That just made him more irritated.

He ripped it off and tossed it on the table. His jacket and tie followed. Then he started unbuttoning his shirt slowly.

Lily crossed her arms and leaned back beside him. "Women are so d*mn sensitive. It was just a show. God, I hate hanging out with women. Always ruins the vibe."

Mason Carver poured him another drink. "Come on, man. Drink. Don't let her kill the mood."

Julian leaned forward and knocked it back in one shot.

Then he said, "Who planned this?"

Silence.

"No one planned anything," Lily said quickly. "It just happened."

Julian's lips curved into a slow, cold smile. He lifted his eyes to glance at Lily and pointed at the door Iris had walked out of. "Who is she?"

Lily glanced around the room, desperate for help. His voice dropped. "I asked you—who is she?"

Of course Lily knew who she was. Iris was the one person Julian kept guarded like a live wire—crossing that line was never an option.

"Iris," she mumbled.

Julian let out a short, bitter laugh. Yeah. That's right. Iris.

Everyone here knew exactly what that meant.

"She'd never show up to a place like this," he said.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Didn't know scientists weren't allowed to have fun."

Julian leaned forward again, elbows on his knees. His voice dropped. "Was it worth it? Going that far?"

Mason caught the fear on Lily's face and stepped in quickly.

"Julian, it was me. I booked the girls. I asked someone to bring Iris. I just wanted to see if she still cared about you."

Julian lifted his head slowly. The look in his eyes made Mason's throat go dry, sending a chill down his spine.

...

Iris couldn't sleep. In the early hours of the morning, she got up, pulled a glass of milk from the fridge, warmed it up, and sat quietly on the couch drinking it.

The breeze through the open window stirred the curtains. City lights burned brighter than the darkness outside.

Everything was quiet.

She held the warm glass with both hands, sipping slowly, but the pressure in her chest refused to ease.

A soft click. She turned toward the door.

Julian walked in, kicked off his shoes, and looked around. His eyes landed on her. She was usually asleep by now. Not tonight.

She met his gaze briefly, then drained the rest of the milk, walked to the kitchen, rinsed the cup, turned off the light, and came back out.

Julian dropped onto the couch, arms and legs spread out like he owned the space. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Whether it was the alcohol or exhaustion, he didn't stir.

Iris passed by without a sound.

"You waiting up for me?" he asked quietly.

She stopped in her tracks, back still to him. Her chest was tight.

She exhaled. "No."

"You saw me out with other women, and you have nothing to say?"

The words hit her hard, sharp enough to make her chest ache. But she had long learned how to swallow her hurt and keep it to herself.

She stayed silent. The seconds dragged out, heavy and cold. Then she put on a generous front and said in a steady voice, "Just be careful. Take care of yourself."

That cracked him open. Julian shot up from the couch, marched toward her, and grabbed her wrist, yanking her around.

She stumbled, pain shooting through her arm.

Her eyes welled. "Julian, what are you doing?"

Julian slammed her back against the wall. The impact sent a sharp ache through her spine.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, his presence overwhelming. Standing that close to him felt like facing something immovable.

With one hand, he pinned both her wrists above her head. He leaned down, his cold eyes meeting hers. His other hand came up, gripping her jaw, forcing her to look straight at him.

Her heart was pounding out of control. The faint smell of alcohol clung to him. Her jaw throbbed under his grip as fear flickered through her eyes.

This was the closest she had been to Julian in two years.

She could see him clearly now. The strong lines of his face, the intensity in his eyes, the sharp bridge of his nose, the pale curve of his lips. Even the small mole near the corner of his eye stood out.

He was strikingly good-looking. And dangerous. The pressure he gave off made it hard for her to breathe. He had never touched her before. Not once. Not even by accident.

She swallowed, her voice unsteady. "Are you drunk?"

His expression was cold, his voice low and heavy. "Iris, do you have any idea how much I hate you?"

The words landed hard. Her chest tightened, her eyes stung.

Of course she knew. If he didn't despise her, they wouldn't have spent two years like this. Married in name only. No warmth. No closeness.

She forced herself to stay composed, holding back the tears. "Julian, if you want this marriage, then stay. If you don't, we can end it. You don't need to trap yourself."

He let out a short, mocking laugh. His fingers tightened slightly at her jaw. "Trap myself? You're easy on the eyes. You don't spend my money. You keep the place clean. Having you around saves me the cost of a housekeeper."

Every word cut deep. The pain hit so sharply she almost forgot how to breathe.

"Why?" Her hands trembled as she struggled uselessly against him. Her voice caught, but she refused to let the tears fall. "Why are you doing this?"

They hadn't met through love.

Her parents had been hounding her to settle down since college. Not because they cared about her happiness, but because getting her married off meant less responsibility for them—one less mouth to worry about, and a chance to ask for help with things back home.

The pressure never stopped. Calls, complaints, guilt. Four years of it wore her down.

At twenty-four, she finally gave in and agreed to a blind date. Julian had been introduced through one of her college professors.

He was a year older. Born into a powerful family. The heir to Everhart Group. Tall, well-built, attractive, wealthy. On paper, there was nothing to criticize.

At first, he treated her well—attentive, gentle, almost intense in his affection.

She didn't want to live with in-laws after marriage. He bought a large apartment near her research institute.

She disliked noise and strangers in the house. He dismissed the staff and shared the housework with her.

She had her own career, her own goals. She never wanted to be a stay-at-home wife. He respected that and never once asked her to quit her job.

She hadn't really dated anyone before. Always cautious, always guarded—never the type to fall fast or fall hard.

Julian kept his distance, never crossing a line—polite, controlled, every bit the gentleman.

She was never great at showing love, but when she fell for him, it was real—completely, without holding anything back. A few months in, he proposed in a way that felt thoughtful, sincere. She said yes, full of hope for everything they might build together.

But after the wedding, everything shifted. She never knew why, only that he seemed to turn into someone else. He was cold and detached. Like he was already halfway gone.

They didn't feel like a married couple. They felt like two people sharing a space, familiar yet estranged.

Living like that was exhausting. She didn't know how much longer she could endure it.

So she told herself not to care so much. To stop expecting love. To treat marriage like something to get through.

Some things, once given, could never be taken back.

Giving her heart to the wrong person had drained her completely. She had nothing left to give anyone else.

Julian looked at her, flushed and silent, his eyes flat, unreadable. His voice came out low, rough. "It's not some big mystery. I just can't stand the way you act like none of this touches you. You're always so closed off, so cold. Talking to you feels like talking to a wall. No warmth, no spark—just blank."

Her vision blurred. A deep, aching pain spread through her chest. She couldn't take it anymore. For the first time in two years, she snapped.

"Then why did you marry me?" Her voice rose, shaking with anger and hurt she'd held back for too long. "What's wrong with you? Do you enjoy this?"

Julian's lips curved into a faint, cold smile. His eyes never left her face.

He was silent for a few seconds. Then he released her, stepped back, and spoke quietly, "Yeah. I do."

She hadn't expected that. She rubbed her aching wrist, forced the tears back, and turned toward the bedroom.

When the door closed behind her, her strength gave out. She leaned against it, her body going weak. Tears slipped down her face in silence, cold drops trailing along her cheeks.

She didn't sleep at all that night. Near dawn, exhaustion finally dragged her under.

Iris had barely gotten four hours of sleep. When she finally opened her eyes, it was already nine.

She got up, washed her face, and changed her clothes. Tossed the laundry into the washer, hit start. Tapped the robot vacuum and let it roam across the floor, buzzing quietly.

The living room was bright with morning light, full of warmth but none of it reached her. She fixed breakfast for two, like always. Just some simple noodles with eggs and tomatoes.

She sat down at the table, chewing without tasting. Each bite like cardboard. Then the doorbell rang. She set her fork down and got up.

When she opened the door and saw who it was, her eyes darkened. As if the day hadn't already sucked enough.

"Morning, Iris," Lily chirped with a big fake smile. She held up a brown paper bag. "The A/C at the club was blasting last night. Julian gave me his jacket. I figured I'd drop it off since I was in the area."

Iris didn't take it. "No need. He's got a thing about cleanliness. Once someone else wears it, he's done."

Lily gave a sheepish smile and stepped right inside like she owned the place. Her heels clicked against the spotless floor, each step loud and sharp, like she wanted to leave a mark.

"Oh please," Lily said, tossing her hair. "Julian's only like that with you. We grew up together—shared clothes, drinks, snacks. Never once heard him complain."

Only with her? Iris didn't move. It hit her like a punch to the chest—quiet, but brutal.

Two winters ago, she'd been reading on the couch and wrapped herself in his coat because the heater wasn't working. When she gave it back, he'd said coldly, "I'm a clean freak. Just throw it out."

She thought it was about hygiene. It turned out, it was only ever about her.

How foolish I was!

She shut the door without a word. Her stomach curled. The breakfast in her mouth turned bitter.

She walked back to the table, picked up her plate, and dumped the food down the sink.

Lily wandered around like she was checking the place out. Eventually, she leaned on the kitchen doorway and said, "So... which room is Julian's?"

Iris kept her focus on washing the dishes and didn't look up. "Leave the jacket on the couch. He's still out cold."

Lily let out a lazy laugh and sneered. "Julian and I used to share a bed all the time. No boundaries between us. It was just... comfortable."

Iris froze, hand still in the soapy water. Her grip on the sponge tightened.

Then Lily's voice again, casually cruel. "Oh, and I peeked into your bedroom. You two don't even sleep together?"

Iris slammed the sponge into the sink. Dishes rattled. Iris washed her hands, turned off the faucet, walked past her in silence, grabbed her canvas bag, slipped into her sneakers, and left without looking back.

Behind her, Lily smiled to herself, smug and satisfied. She crossed her arms and strolled around the apartment like it was already hers.

Finally, she reached for Julian's bedroom door and let herself in.

Lily pushed open the door to Julian's bedroom and pulled the curtains apart. Bright sunlight instantly flooded the pristine space.

He was lying flat on the oversized, slate-gray bed. The moment the light hit, his brows furrowed in discomfort.

She walked over and crouched beside the bed. His body tensed, and his even breathing turned shallow.

He wasn't opening his eyes, but he was clearly awake. Lily leaned in, slowly tracing his sharp nose with her fingertip.

Suddenly, Julian's hand shot up and clamped around hers. His eyes were still shut, chest rising and falling fast.

She tried pulling her hand away, but he didn't let go. His grip only tightened.

His reaction made her blush, a mix of surprise and delight in her voice. "Julian, time to get up."

At her voice, his brows drew even tighter, then he opened his eyes.

The second their eyes met, his pupils contracted. Like he'd been burned, he immediately dropped her hand.

He sat upright. The silky comforter slid down to his waist. Seeing who it really was, his face cooled instantly. "What are you doing here?"

Knowing he was a clean freak, Lily quickly got off the bed, flustered. "You left your jacket at the lounge last night. I thought I'd drop it off."

Julian ran a hand through his hair. "Throw it out."

He must've been out of his mind, thinking Iris had snuck into his room and was the one touching his nose.

Lily looked confused. "No one even wore it. It's a nice jacket. Why would you throw it away?"

Last night had been a mess. They'd blindfolded him and led him into a private lounge room. When he finally pulled the blindfold off, some dancer was already all over him, her perfume clinging to his jacket like a stench.

Before he could react, he'd been pushed down onto the sofa—right as Iris and her friend barged in. That's how the whole misunderstanding started.

Julian had no interest in explaining. His tone turned cold. "Didn't I make myself clear?"

Of course Lily remembered. Right before his wedding, Julian had told all their mutual friends, loud and clear—no one sets foot in his home without an invite.

"I remember."

"Then why are you here?" He picked up his phone from the nightstand. Full bars. "You couldn't just call?"

Lily's eyes darted away. She knew Julian could see right through her. Whatever petty tricks she tried, he'd sniff out in seconds.

"I was just curious... wanted to see your place."

Julian said nothing, just tossed the covers aside and got out of bed. Without a word, he walked past her and out the door.

She followed. He went straight to the living room and yanked the front door open. His body language couldn't have been clearer.

Lily stood there, pouting, refusing to move.

"By now you've probably snooped around plenty. Curiosity satisfied. Time to go."

"I didn't even get a glass of water. That how you treat your guests?"

"There's a café downstairs, take a left. Drink whatever you want. Send me the bill," he said, eyes darkened, voice clipped. His tone dropped another notch, cold and sharp. "Next time you sneak in, I'll throw you off the balcony."

They might've grown up together, but even Lily knew better than to test Julian when he was serious. She walked out. Just as she turned back, the door slammed shut behind her.

Julian headed into the kitchen, pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, and took a long swig. Ice-cold.

Still holding the bottle, one hand in his pocket, he walked over to the balcony window.

Morning light filtered in. Clear skies, not a cloud in sight. The golden sun caught the edge of his sharp profile. That usual calm in his face was tinged with something heavier.

Turning his head, his gaze landed on the dining table.

Under a clear food cover sat two plates, one with soup, the other with pasta in a light tomato sauce. A fork rested neatly on a folded paper towel.

His eyes darkened. He looked away and downed the rest of the water in one go.

Somewhere in the apartment, the cleaning robot hummed quietly along the floor. The washing machine whirred softly behind closed doors.

Everything was quiet, still, and empty.

Ten minutes later, Iris had just arrived at the research lab when she ran into Zoe Ellison, who looked panicked.

"You're just in time. Test monkey number nine didn't make it."

Iris picked up her pace, tossed her bag onto her desk, and pulled on her lab coat while walking toward the lab.

Zoe hurried behind her. "All the readings looked fine last night. Didn't expect it to die this morning."

"There's still toxicity in the new compound," Iris muttered, buttoning her coat.

"Celeste..." Zoe hesitated, trying to smooth things over. The three of them had been tight back in college, practically inseparable. She hated seeing that fall apart.

"Don't mention her to me."

"What about you and Julian—"

"Zoe," Iris cut her off, "it's work hours. I don't talk personal stuff on the clock."

Zoe sighed. "Fine, let's talk work then. We're running on fumes here. This project's barely staying afloat. Could you maybe... hit up your crazy-rich husband for a little funding?"

Their pharmaceutical startup was hanging by a thread.

Just four people. One in marketing. One accountant. Zoe called herself "manager" but was basically the assistant. Iris was the official founder and lead researcher.

She'd always been the golden child. Smart, driven, and beautiful. The kind of student everyone knew by name.

Her major was pharmacology, and since college, she'd been focused on developing treatments for rare diseases. She even held two patents.

Those patents were how she funded this place—a small, under-equipped research lab where she could keep chasing her dream.

She walked into the lab and started checking over the monkey's body. "Anyone but him," she said calmly.

Zoe crossed her arms. "If you keep this up, you won't even have enough to pay the sales guy."

"I'll pick up a few shifts at med school, do some guest lectures. Pay him with my side hustle."

Zoe raised a brow. "And my salary?"

Iris looked up and smiled sweetly. "Guess I'll have to give you my heart instead?"

Seeing a smile finally break through that gloomy face, Zoe let out a quiet breath of relief. "Sounds good to me."

That evening, the city was glowing in neon. Light rain drifted from the sky like a whisper.

Iris stopped by the store after work, grabbed a few groceries, and headed home to fix a quiet dinner for one.

After eating, she read for a while, then showered and went to bed by ten, like always. She and Julian barely crossed paths.

She'd be asleep before he got home. When she woke for work, he'd still be out cold. Even on weekends, they'd usually avoid each other out of habit.

She fell asleep quickly, but not long after, her phone buzzed.

She reached for it, barely opening her eyes. It was Julian. Her heart skipped. She sat up immediately.

He hadn't called her—not even once—in the two years since they got married.

It was so sudden that she didn't even know how to react.

Living under the same roof, and he calls me at eleven at night? Something had to be wrong.

She took a deep breath and answered, her voice soft. "What's going on?"

Julian's voice was low, strained, and raw. "Grandpa passed. Pack a bag. I'm coming to get you."

"...Passed?" The word didn't even register at first.

Julian's grandparents had been university professors. After retirement, they moved to the countryside, preferring peace over city life.

They were healthy, always traveling and hiking. It didn't seem real.

Passed, as in... actually gone?

"I'll be at the gate in twenty minutes. Grab a few outfits for me."

He had never sounded like this before. If he was taking her back to his hometown, it had to be serious.

"Okay." Iris hung up and jumped out of bed.

She changed clothes, packed as fast as she could, and then ran into Julian's room.

No suitcase. Time was tight. Without overthinking, she stuffed his clothes into her own bag.

Fifteen minutes later, she was outside the building's security gate.

She'd forgotten an umbrella. The drizzle had picked up, and a cold wind whipped through her soaked clothes.

Then the familiar car pulled up. She rushed over. Julian got out and came straight toward her.

"I couldn't find your bag, so I just—" She started to explain, but he took the suitcase from her hands and tossed it into the trunk.

He shut it and opened the passenger door. "Get in." She hesitated for a second, then climbed in.

The car smelled expensive. The seats were comfortable, but the A/C was cranked too low. She was shivering.

Her clothes and hair were damp. The cabin was so clean and neat that she didn't know where he kept tissues.

Julian got in swiftly, buckled up, and turned the key. "Buckle your seatbelt."

She snapped out of it, quickly fastening hers. Rain dotted the windshield like scattered diamonds. The wipers moved in a slow, steady rhythm. Silence filled the cabin.

She hugged her arms across her chest, rubbing gently. Julian kept his eyes on the road.

Then, without a word, he reached out and pressed a panel in front of her.

A hidden compartment popped open. Inside: tissues, masks, sanitizer.

She blinked at him. It was dark in the car. His profile looked especially cold and unreadable. He didn't even glance at me. How'd he know I need tissues?

"...Thanks," she whispered, wiping off the rain from her hair and clothes.

She tucked the used tissues into her pocket, shut the panel, and leaned against the window.

Julian turned up the heat. Warm air slowly filled the cabin.

Bit by bit, she stopped shivering. The drive took four hours. With nothing to say between them, the silence was suffocating.

With a habit of going to bed early, Iris really couldn't resist the drowsiness and dozed off halfway through. She was nudged awake by Julian's voice. "We're here."

She sat up quickly. Only then did she realize her seat had been reclined—when did that happen?

Julian got out of the car. She unbuckled and followed. It was 3 a.m.

The house blazed with light against the dark night. Soft lights lined the porch, and folding chairs filled the yard. Several locals sat quietly outside. Iris had never attended a funeral on Julian's side of the family. Afraid of doing something wrong, she instinctively moved closer to him.

At that moment, a slightly heavyset middle-aged woman hurried out. "Julian's back, and his wife too!"

"Linda," Julian said in greeting.

Iris followed his lead and nodded politely. "Hi, Linda."

Linda, their next-door neighbor, met them at the door. Her eyes were red, voice shaky. "Julian, it happened so fast. I'm so sorry. You didn't get to say goodbye... but at least you're here now."

Linda turned to Iris and gave her a gentle, reassuring touch on the arm. "Just stay with Julian when you go in," she said softly. "Take your time. Be there together."

"Grandpa..." Iris's throat tightened, her voice catching.

In the two years since marrying into the Everhart family, only his grandparents had truly cared for her. They were warm, attentive, and kind.

Even though she only visited during holidays, she genuinely loved them.

"He passed suddenly," Linda said through tears. "He was watching the evening news in the living room, closed his eyes for a moment, and never woke up."

Iris felt a heavy weight settle in her chest.

Inside the house, floral arrangements lined the walls. The open casket stood quietly at the center of the room.

Julian's grandfather lay inside, dressed with care, his hands folded over his chest. No one moved closer. The family had already said their goodbyes.

Candles flickered nearby, casting soft shadows on the walls. A minister sat off to the side, murmuring soft prayers.

Following Linda's lead, Iris stepped beside Julian. They bowed their heads in silent tribute.

Everything had been done. The only thing left was the waiting.

Linda gestured toward a few chairs by the wall. "You two can sit for a bit," she said gently. "They're holding off until the rest of the family gets here."

"Where's Grandma?" Iris asked, glancing around.

Linda let out a sigh. "She's at the hospital. The doctor said it was too much for her today."

Iris fought back tears. They'd loved each other for a lifetime. And now, they couldn't even say goodbye together. That kind of loss felt especially cruel.

She sat next to Julian, an empty chair between them.

The air smelled of flowers and melted wax. The minister's low voice blended with the occasional murmur from outside.

Grief hung heavy in the room. Iris glanced at Julian.

He leaned back in his chair, legs slightly apart, fingers laced in front of him. His shoulders tensed with grief, his gaze fixed on the casket. His eyes were red, rimmed with grief.

They sat there, wordless. There was nothing to say.

Volunteers flitted silently about the room through the night, tending to the candles and straightening the flowers.

By morning, neighbors and friends had begun to arrive—some with quiet words, others just with presence.

Iris forced herself to eat something small. Julian didn't touch a bite. It wasn't until late afternoon that the rest of the family finally arrived.

His cousin Jenny, phone in hand, was livestreaming parts of the funeral—whispering, wide-eyed, too caught up in the moment. Raised in the city, she didn't seem to understand the weight of it all. The locals said nothing, but their silence spoke volumes. When her stream was finally shut down, she gave it up.

The sun dipped low behind the hills, casting a copper glow across the front yard.

Iris sat stiffly on a folding chair beneath the porch awning, surrounded by Linda and a circle of middle-aged women from the neighborhood. They were organizing food trays and stacking disposable cups for the evening's memorial service. The folding tables had been set up with framed photos, floral centerpieces, and bundles of paper programs for guests.

But in this part of the country, a few women gathered for "helping out" almost always meant "digging in." It was never just about service—it was about gossip. Real gossip. From who was sleeping with whose husband to which high schooler got busted shoplifting last weekend, nothing slipped through their net.

"So why's the funeral been pushed?" one woman asked Iris, not bothering to lower her voice.

Iris looked down and softly replied, "I'm not sure."

Linda leaned toward her, dropping her tone just enough to sound conspiratorial. Her eyes darted around, scanning for eavesdroppers even though she clearly wanted to be overheard. "Caleb's not back yet. Word is he's been off climbing God-knows-where. Some mountain range without reception. People say he won't be back for a few more days."

"A few days?" The woman gave a sharp scoff. "What's he think this is, a vacation? His grandfather's in a d*mn casket. That body won't wait forever."

Caleb was Julian's half brother—same father, different everything else. He was known for being untamed and detached, the type who treated rules like suggestions and responsibility like a joke.

"Wait a minute," Linda muttered, straightening up. She squinted toward the long gravel driveway where a dark SUV had just come to a slow stop. "Who's that?"

"Oh my God," Linda gasped, slapping her thigh.

Everyone's heads turned, eyes locking on the scene unfolding at the end of the driveway. Then, all of them turned to look at Iris.

Their gazes were loaded—with sympathy, meaning, and more than a little judgment.

Iris stared straight ahead. Her chest tightened, making it hard to breathe, and her fingers went numb as she sat there motionless.

Lily had just stepped out of the car. Without a word, she ran straight into Julian's arms, wrapping both arms tightly around his waist, sobbing into his chest like she'd just lost the love of her life.

"Julian," she wailed, "how could he be gone? It was so sudden... I cried the entire way here. He was always so healthy. Why did this have to happen? He was such a good man... he loved all of us so much..."

Iris looked away and lowered her head, continuing to arrange the sympathy materials in silence.

No one said anything, but the mood shifted. A few heads turned. Someone cleared their throat. It was the kind of moment people wouldn't forget, and Iris knew it would get talked about later, whether she was around or not.

Linda bumped her knee lightly and leaned in. "You're really okay with that?" she murmured. "Because I wouldn't be."

As she said it, Linda actually swiped the air twice as if delivering imaginary slaps. Of course Iris was angry. But she and Julian didn't have that kind of relationship anymore.

She didn't even have the right to be jealous, let alone fight for him.

"Wait—look, look," one of the other women hissed, pointing again, eyes wide with anticipation.

Iris didn't want to look. She was already barely holding it together.

"Oh, come on," Linda exclaimed. "Did he really just carry her into the house?"

She stood up, muttering as she slapped her thigh again in frustration, leaving the cards in a messy pile on the table. "I'm going in to see what the hell's going on."

As Linda disappeared into the house, the remaining women quieted down, their eyes flicking back to Iris, trading silent glances full of meaning.

If she weren't sitting there, they'd probably be deep into Act II of their fictional drama already.

A few minutes later, Linda came back, walking fast, a little too pleased with herself. She grabbed Iris's hand.

"So apparently," she said, voice low and eager, "the little drama queen's been on some crash diet. Hasn't eaten in days. Said she cried the whole ride over, then passed out from grief right into Julian's arms."

Another woman sneered. "Passed out, huh? Funny. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was the one married to him."

"Too nice," Linda muttered, patting Iris on the back of her hand. "You're way too easygoing. You keep letting stuff like this slide, and that girl's gonna walk off with your man like it's nothing."

Iris forced a soft smile. "Don't overthink it. Julian and Lily just grew up together. They're old friends, that's all."

She kept her voice steady, even as something sharp twisted in her chest. This was the first time she defended Julian. It would also be the last. But really—who would believe her?

Night settled in.

Caleb still hadn't returned. The burial couldn't move forward without him, so the funeral home held the body overnight.

That evening, Julian's father and uncle stayed at the house, talking quietly with a few neighbors who had come by to pay their respects. Iris, heavy with fatigue, made her way to the bedroom she and Julian shared during every visit back home.

She closed the door gently behind her. Just then, Julian stepped out of the bathroom.

He wore nothing but a white towel slung low around his hips. His chest was broad and solid, his abs taut, each muscle well-defined and glistening slightly from the shower. His presence radiated heat and strength.

His damp hair clung slightly to his forehead, accentuating the sharp cut of his cheekbones and the deep-set intensity of his eyes. He looked wild. Untamed.

Their eyes met. He paused. So did she.

Iris's heart jumped into her throat. She immediately looked away, her feet glued to the floor by the door. She couldn't even remember how to breathe.

Every time they came back here, they had to share this room. And every time, it was the same—uncomfortable.

Julian's voice was low, expression unreadable. "Where's my stuff?"

Iris pointed. "Still in the black duffel in the closet. I didn't get a chance to unpack."

He walked over, opened the closet, and dragged the bag out. He dropped it onto the bench at the end of the bed and unzipped it.

He rummaged through for a minute, pulling out a hoodie and sweatpants. Then he paused.

His fingers had closed around something unexpected. Slowly, he pulled it out—a pale pink bra. His brows twitched ever so slightly, his eyes flickering in brief surprise.

Iris's face lit up red like it had been slapped. She rushed forward in panic, grabbed the bra from his hand, and shoved it behind her back.

She was mortified. So close to him, all she could smell was the faint, clean scent of soap on his skin. Cool and crisp.

"I couldn't find your other bag," she stammered. "So I just packed everything into one."

Julian looked down at her, his gaze lingering for half a second on the flush creeping up her neck.

Then he looked away, pulled out the rest of his clothes, and walked back into the bathroom without another word.

Iris stood there for a moment, still trying to calm her heartbeat. While he was gone, she used the time to unpack both of their clothes and put them away into the drawers.

Julian came out fully dressed. He didn't speak. He didn't glance at her.

He walked out of the room. And he didn't return. Sometime after midnight, Iris woke up.

She sat in the dark for a moment, then slipped out of bed without turning on the light. She figured Julian had been out there long enough. Maybe he could use a break.

But the second she stepped into the hallway and caught a glimpse of the front room, she stopped cold.

Only two people were still there, sitting side by side on the couch: Julian and Lily. The others had long gone to bed.

The two of them sat close. Lily's eyes were shut, her head gently leaning against Julian's shoulder. She looked peaceful and comfortable.

Julian didn't move. He didn't shrug her off. Didn't shift away.

He just sat there, his gaze locked on the casket.

Iris stood there, unmoving. Something inside her just... stopped. Like a switch flipped, and whatever hope she had left sank out of reach.

Her arms felt cold. Her legs, heavy. She couldn't cry anymore, even if she wanted to.

Some part of her still loved him. But even love has its limits. Her eyes burned. She turned and walked back to the room.