The Price of Swapping Wives: His Remorse

When Harvey and Carrie came down the stairs, they froze momentarily when they saw me sitting in the living room.

Harvey instantly stepped away from her and gently approached me, grabbing my hand. "Darling, why didn't you tell me you're home?"

I acted as if nothing had happened and spoke in my usual playful tone, "I'm tired, that's all."

He smiled and kissed my forehead, as though no one else was in the room.

I smiled sweetly at him, then glanced at Carrie and greeted her with a nod. That was when I noticed the book in her hands.

It was a posthumous work by a late literary author, a book I had long liked. I had even mentioned to Harvey several times that I wanted it, but he had never paid me any attention.

With Carrie's status, there was no way she could've gotten it on her own. There was no doubt that he had given it to her.

When she noticed my gaze, she quickly covered the book cover with her hand and said, "I should leave now. It's getting late."

As soon as Carrie stepped forward, her foot slipped and she crashed to the ground with a loud thud.

Her forehead bled immediately, and Harvey rushed to her side. He lifted her and pressed the tie I gifted him against her wound.

"How could you be so careless?" he asked.

He sounded like he was chastising her, but the panic in his voice was evident.

That tie had been my gift to him on his coming of age. It was a piece I designed and stitched with my own hands. He had always treasured it, keeping it spotless. But now, it was drenched in another woman's blood.

When Harvey caught my gaze shifting between him and the tie, a flash of helplessness and guilt flickered across his face. Yet, when he saw Carrie's critical condition, he swept her into his arms.

"Darling, she's hurt. I'll take her to the hospital. Go to bed and don't wait for me."

Before I could respond, he ran out of the house with her. My expression darkened as I stared at his disappearing figure.

I couldn't sleep that night, and Harvey didn't come home as he only returned the next day around noon.

…

When he saw me sitting on the couch in a daze, he hurried over and pulled me into his arms. "I'm sorry, Darling. Carrie had a concussion and a fever, so I had to stay with her and couldn't come back."

I disregarded his apology as my eyes were fixed on the collar of his white shirt, where a faint lipstick stain bloomed red.

Judging by his wrinkled clothes, I wonder if they slept together last night.

When Harvey realized where my gaze was, he tugged at his collar in a panic and tried to cover it up.

"A nurse bumped into me and accidentally spilled some medicine all over me. It was so awful!" He lied without missing a beat.

I arched a brow at his lies but didn't bother exposing him. Since he wanted to play dumb, I was willing to play along. "Go take a shower," I muttered calmly.

He nodded and smiled. "Alright. Once I'm done, I'll take you out to pick out the jewelry for our wedding."

With that, he disappeared into the restroom.

…

A hollow chuckle broke free from my lips, and soon tears streamed down my face, draining me until nothing was left but emptiness.

I believed in love, but I had no desire to salvage it once it was tainted by distrust.

After Harvey had finished showering and was dressed in a new pair of clothes, he took me to the jewelry store.

As we entered the store, my eyes landed on a familiar figure. A group of women surrounded Carrie, their voices sharp and cruel as they berated her.

Wasn't she supposed to have a concussion? How was she already out of the hospital?

Harvey sensed my skepticism and jumped in to clarify, "She insisted on being discharged as she thought it was just a minor injury."

I continued to watch the scene in silence.

Carrie was in tears, looking pitiful under the women's attacks, and out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Harvey clenching his fists tightly as he stared at her.