Hold My Tear, I’m Getting My Wife Back!

Leanne dropped the cat teaser and stood up, ready to head out.

Curtis was waiting in the living room, glancing at his watch before catching sight of her. His eyelids lifted, and he said with a hint of impatience. “What health fad are you on now? You’ve sure put on airs. Did it take me coming home to summon you?”

“You didn’t have to come back,” Leanne retorted.

Curtis seemed to ignore her sarcasm. Noticing the cat hair on her clothes, he frowned and handed her a slim box, saying, “We’re leaving in twenty minutes. Go upstairs and get

changed.”

Leanne didn’t take the box, deliberately rinsing her hands under the faucet. “I already said I’m not going.”

But Curtis seemed unusually patient. “Want me to help you dress?”

Leanne clenched her teeth and spun around to face him. “Do we even need to keep up charade? Who are we trying to fool?”

this

Curtis’ gaze turned icy. “Do you think I’m playing at some happy couple act with you?”

She wanted to say, “Isn’t that what we’re doing? But Curtis’ lips curled with a mocking smirk.

“You’re reading too much into it. I ain’t got time for this nonsense.”

“Regardless of how reluctant you are, you’re still my wife, and socializing is a basic courtesy expected of you.”

He tossed a dress onto the couch. “Just do your part.”

She had been naive, thinking he cared enough to play at a loving marriage.

He was taking her along only because she was his wife. Skipping out would be a breach of etiquette and would tarnish his family’s name.

Leanne picked up the dress and went upstairs.

On the drive to the Perez family’s estate, she turned away from Curtis, staring out the window in silence.

Curtis’ gaze drifted to her occasionally.

The dress he had picked was a powder blue one that melted into the glossy white satin, elegant without losing its freshness. It hugged Leanne’s waist, with layers of fabric cascading down dreamily, complementing her ethereal aura.

His eyes took a stroll over her figure.

“Is the dress a bit loose?” he asked.

Leanne’s hands, resting on her lap, tensed.

The dress was indeed a bit roomy. Had Curtis gotten the size wrong again?

She kept her back to him, declining to engage.

“You’ve grown quite the temper these years, always giving me attitude,” Curtis said, his tone more teasing than angry. “Who did you learn that from?”

Leanne turned to face him, challenging. “When did I give you attitude?”

As if she dared give him attitude. This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

Besides, with him being away for most of the year, when could she have given him any?

She had never been one to lose her temper. Her anger was just a delicate frown, like a kitten trying to appear threatening, utterly non-intimidating.

It was just like the moment.

Curtis laughed, indulging in a rare moment of levity to tease her. “My bad, okay?”

Leanne was at a loss for words. She turned her head away, not in the mood to talk.

Despite their spat, once they arrived, she slipped her hand into the crook of Curtis’ arm and put on a practiced smile, as natural and skilled as any actress.

Hubert, well into his eighties and recently a great-grandfather, was the picture of vitality, his face aglow with pride.

Curtis led Leanne over to greet him. Hubert chuckled. “I knew you were back when a bottle went missing from my cellar.”

Curtis replied, “Now, don’t blame me. I didn’t do that.”