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Love: A Matter of Conscience Novel Cover

Love: A Matter of Conscience

After Frank Turner saved her life during a violent storm, she finally accepted his marriage proposal. For two years, he was a model of devotion, but his affection eventually withered into indifference. When she suffered from severe abdominal pain, Frank ignored her to focus on work. Seeking him out, she discovered him in a car with another woman, destroying their marriage. She immediately left the country, leaving a desperate Frank to search for her far too late.
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Chapter 2

I pushed him away, bile rising in my throat. "You reek of sweat. Go shower."

Frank snuggled closer, playing coy. "Work was brutal. Let me hold you for a while."

As we tussled, my fingers brushed something crusty on his pants, dried evidence of his betrayal.

"Kid spilled oatmeal on me last night," he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably. "I'll change."

As he showered, I doubled over, vomiting into the sink, my stomach churning from more than just my condition. I grabbed his phone and opened his chat with Lila.

Her avatar was a sketch he'd drawn—art he'd once sworn was only for me. The latest one was when he went to buy my medicine.

Lila: [Back at school, and you haven't visited. Got new lingerie. Wanna see if it fits?]

Scrolling up revealed more flirty texts, money transfers, and coded plans for meetups.

Turned out, they had been sneaking around since our wedding. This explained his goofy grins at his phone and the hours spent in the bathroom.

When I confronted him, he claimed he was watching funny videos. When I got upset about his distance, he'd take a day off, whisk me away on a trip, and spoil me with gifts.

I'd relent, never seeing the truth staring me in the face. The signs were there all along.

...

Fresh from the shower, Frank wrapped me in a bear hug. "Honey, let's have a baby."

His hands tugged at my pajamas, slipping inside.

Once, I'd have melted into him, our nights a blur of passion. Now, I shoved him away and gathered my clothes.

Fighting back my nausea, I said, "I'm on my period and feeling awful. Sleep in the guest room."

"It's my fault," he murmured. "I've been so busy, I've neglected you. You're mad, right?"

"You mean busy cheating?" I almost blurted out.

I bit my tongue and managed, "You're overthinking it."

But what happened in the car the other night kept flashing across my mind. Annoyed, I got out of bed and tossed every perfume bottle from my vanity into the trash.

Frank pursued me for three years, and we'd been married for two years. Our backgrounds were worlds apart, but I always stood by him as he clawed his way up, building a life from nothing.

When I accepted his proposal, everyone was against it.

"You could have anyone," said my mom. "Why him? We're moving abroad. What will you do here alone?"

"Frank values me more than life," I replied, brushing off her concern. "He'd never betray me."

Later, he won over my parents and friends with his actions. I chose to stay and build a life with him.

Now I was the fool.

I called my mom, set on divorce.

"It's not your fault," she sighed. "We all misjudged him. I'm glad you're seeing the truth. Come home. I'll make your favorite food."

The next morning, I woke up to see a cup of ginger tea on the table. It was Frank's silent apology.

At work, he sent me bouquets of roses.

A coworker swooned, "You two are still so romantic after all these years. Total couple goals!"

I forced a smile, only feeling bitter inside, because no one knew the rot beneath the petals.

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