The Husband I Knew

As expected, the moment Gabriel Romano ended the call, my phone buzzed.

A message from Ella Reed.

“Grace Miller, you should know better by now.

The Romano heir is in my womb.

As for the Donna’s position—

you’re only warming the seat for me.”

A single tear slid down my cheek.

Just as Gabriel opened the car door and looked in, I turned my head away quickly.

He sat down beside me, leaning closer.

“Grace, what’s wrong? Are you upset?”

The concern in his voice hurt more than cruelty ever could.

I took a slow breath and lowered my eyes, hiding the tears.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired,” I said quietly. “Will you come home with me?”

He laughed softly, rubbing my hair, his voice warm and soothing.

“Come on,” he murmured. “You know I’d rather be with you. I just need to take care of something urgent at the office. I’ll be back before you know it. Try not to miss me too much, okay?”

With that, he cupped my face and leaned in to kiss me.

I raised my finger and pressed it gently against his lips, my gaze shifting past him—toward the paparazzi hidden across the street.

“Someone’s recording,” I said calmly.

I pushed him out of the car, locked the doors, and told the driver to leave immediately.

Barely two minutes later, my phone rang again.

Ella Reed.

“Grace Miller,” she said sweetly, maliciously, “don’t you feel disgusted kissing Gabriel? He’s kissed every inch of my body. Every place. Including—”

She didn’t finish the sentence, only letting out a soft, knowing laugh.

My hands shook as I ended the call.

“Pull over,” I told the driver.

The moment the car stopped, I stumbled out, gripping the railing by the roadside, retching violently until my vision blurred.

The driver turned pale and reached for his phone.

“I need to call Mr. Romano—”

“No.” I stopped him.

He hesitated, clearly torn.

“Donna Grace,” he said at last, lowering his voice, “the Boss was very clear. My first responsibility is your safety. If anything goes wrong, I have to notify him immediately.”

So even the driver knew how “deeply devoted” Gabriel Romano was.

How ironic.

I forced a small smile, straightened up, and got back into the car.

“He’s busy. Don’t distract him. I know my own body. I’m fine.”

After confirming repeatedly that I was okay, the driver finally took me home.

When I arrived, an email notification popped up.

Medical Report: Pregnancy—Three Months.

The child I had hoped for, waited for—

arrived at the exact moment my faith in love collapsed.

Tears fell uncontrollably.

I sat on the sofa and waited.

I told myself—if Gabriel came back as promised, I would talk to him.

About Ella.

About the baby.

I didn’t want my child to grow up without a father.

But midnight passed.

And Gabriel never came home.

The last thread of hope went cold.

At six in the morning, the door finally opened.

Gabriel stumbled in, reeking of alcohol—and perfume.

In his hand was a container of oat porridge from the east side of the city.

I recognized it instantly.

He had taken Ella there. She’d tasted two spoonfuls, didn’t like it, and told him to bring it back.

She had even messaged me about it.

I heard this place was special to you and Gabriel?

Doesn’t taste like much.

She was right.

What I loved had never been the porridge itself—

but the sweetness love once added to it.

Now that we were heading for divorce, it tasted like nothing at all.

Gabriel set the porridge in front of me, avoiding my eyes.

“Grace… the meeting ran late. I couldn’t come home earlier. I bought this just for you. Eat it while it’s warm.”

I thanked him politely, picked up the spoon, stirred it once—

and deliberately knocked the bowl over while he turned to pour water.

He rushed back immediately, panic written all over his face.

“Are you hurt? Did it burn you?”

I watched him coldly.

When he looked up and met my eyes, something in him froze.

His fingers curled slowly as he stared at me.

“Thank God you’re okay,” he said hoarsely. “If you were hurt, I’d die of heartbreak. If you want it, I’ll buy it again tomorrow morning.”

I could feel him trembling.

In the past, I would have hugged him.

Told him it didn’t matter.

But now, I simply stood up.

“No need,” I said calmly. “My taste has changed. I don’t like seafood porridge anymore.”

And I don’t like you anymore.

I kept that part to myself.