You Lost Me the Moment I Begged

To celebrate our wedding anniversary, my husband—the CEO—brought our son along as always. During dinner, he patiently helped us pick out the green onions we didn’t like, just like he always did.

After the meal, he bathed our son and tucked him into bed. Then, he returned to our room.

He was on top of me when his phone rang.

In the past, he would have smirked, brushed it off, and whispered playfully, “Be quiet, or someone might hear.” But this time, he glanced at the caller ID, paused, then rolled off me and got out of bed.

Curious, I followed him to the balcony, hoping to hug him from behind—only to stop dead in my tracks.

A smile tugged at his lips—soft, indulgent—as he answered the call.

——

Through the hush of the night, a woman’s voice floated from the phone. Flirtatious. Familiar.

“You must need it urgently…”

My heart twisted.

The smile vanished. His expression stiffened as he ended the call. When he turned and saw me, he spoke flatly. “I need to go downstairs.”

He didn’t wait for a reply.

I sat on the bed in silence, lightly dressed, waiting. But he didn’t return.

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. I dressed and went downstairs.

At the base of the stairs, I saw them.

A young woman stood before Geoffrey. Pure white dress, innocent eyes—glowing under the streetlight.

She turned to me with a sweet smile. “Hi, Mrs. Sharp. I’m Caroline McAllister, the new intern at Mr. Sharp’s company.”

She raised a paper bag. “Mr. Sharp, your razor,” she said with a sugary tone. “I left it during our last business trip. You told me your wife gave it to you, so I knew it must be important.”

I scoffed. “It’s better to throw away personal things once they’ve been touched by someone else.”

“Jean,” he snapped, frowning. “Don’t talk like that.”

Caroline just pouted playfully, unaffected.

Then she handed me a cartoon-patterned gift bag. “This is the tablet I helped Mr. Sharp choose for Matthew. Happy early birthday to him.”

My hands clenched, nails digging into my palm. I didn’t move.

“Take it,” Geoffrey ordered.

I reached out stiffly. “Thank you.”

Without another word, I turned and went back upstairs.

A while later, he followed. After he thought I was asleep, he slid closer, arms wrapping around my waist.

“Still awake?” he murmured.

I stayed silent.

He chuckled, brushing my shoulder. “She’s just an intern. Don’t overthink it. Why get jealous?”

I pushed his hand away. “I’m tired.”

His voice turned cold. “Jean, don’t lose your sense of proportion.”

Then he turned his back to me and fell asleep—or pretended to.

Later, I heard him step onto the balcony to call someone.

From the crack in the door, a soft sentence slipped in: “I’m glad you made it home.”

When he came back in and saw me watching, he said calmly, “It’s dangerous for a girl to go home alone at night.”

“She usually seems carefree,” I replied.

He didn’t answer. Maybe he didn’t realize the way he spoke—gentle, protective.

Before I could say more, thunder cracked outside.

Matthew’s cries echoed from the next room.

We both rushed to him, but he got there first.

When I entered, I saw him about to hand our son the tablet Caroline had given.

“Don’t let him watch that,” I said quickly. “It’ll hurt his eyes.”

I reached for it.

He sidestepped me. “Just ten minutes. He wants to watch. Don’t ruin his mood.”