The Day I Met My Wife's Real Husband

Meeting Quinn's impatient gaze, I could hear all the contempt and complaints coming from the people around us. Meanwhile, my colleagues repeatedly apologized on my behalf.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to calm down. Finally, I turned and walked away. It wasn't until I parted ways with my coworkers and reached an empty corner downstairs that my legs finally gave out. I collapsed onto the ground.

The sun was shining brightly overhead, yet I felt freezing cold. The chill seeped out from my bones, carrying an endless ache with it.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a message from Quinn. "Don't overthink this. Things aren't what you think they are. Wait for me to explain."

I had already seen everything with my own eyes. What was left to explain?

I didn't know how long I sat there. It was long enough for the sky to darken, and long enough for a heavy rainstorm to suddenly begin. Yet, I never moved from where I was.

Then, not far away, I heard a familiar female voice. "Mom, Dad, it's raining. Why don't you leave a little later?"

"A wedding? Chester and I will definitely hold one. That's a big deal."

"A second child? We do have plans for that, but we'll wait until the first child is a little older."

The next second, the woman holding an umbrella locked eyes with me.

Quinn's mother spoke first. She immediately grabbed Quinn's arm and looked at me warily. "Isn't that him? Why is he still here? Has he been waiting around?"

Quinn gave her mother a reassuring smile, then walked over, her expression turning impatient again.

In a voice only the two of us could hear, she spoke. "Nicholas, are you done yet? Can you stop making a scene? Can you stop worrying my parents?"

The barrage of criticism rained down on me. Yet, all I had done was sit here quietly.

I forced a bitter smile and looked up at her. "So, those are your parents. You seem very close."

During our seven years of marriage, Quinn had never once introduced me to her parents. She'd always said their relationship was terrible and that she didn't want me to suffer alongside her whenever she dealt with them.

"Mom, Dad, your car's here. Let me send you off. We'll handle things here. Don't worry. I'm here." Chester hurried over and gently supported the two elders, concern written all over his face.

Soon, only the three of us remained.

Once again, Chester wrapped an arm around Quinn and smiled. "Nick, you're not angry, are you? I'm sorry. There's really nothing going on between Q and me. Please don't fight with her because of me."

As he spoke, his eyes were filled with blatant provocation. I just stayed silent.

Without warning, Chester stepped closer and shoved me where no one could see. Behind me was a large boulder. Before I could react, he had already fallen to the ground, wearing an expression of pain.

Then, he said, "Nick, if this makes you feel better, I'll accept it. But please, don't be angry with Q."

My body slammed directly into the rock behind me. A sharp pain instantly shot through my lower back, where there was an old injury.

That injury came from a car accident three years ago. When it happened, I had thrown myself over Quinn without hesitation to protect her. But my own back paid the price.

But before I could even get back up, an overwhelming force slammed me down to the ground again. Quinn had slapped me.

I never imagined that Quinn, the woman who struggled to twist open a bottle cap, could hit with such force. I looked up in shock.

By then, she had already turned away and rushed to Chester's side. She helped him to his feet, her face full of concern.

Then, she looked back at me, her gaze ice-cold. "Nicholas Finch, apologize."