He Only Wanted Me When I Stopped Loving Him

"Why are you being so unreasonable? You're completely losing it. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you actually fell to your death!" Julian shouted, his irritation clear.

I stayed silent, processing his words, and that's when Selena stepped in, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

"Julian, don’t get upset," she said, putting on a pitiful pout. "Megan's just out of the hospital. She's in a bad mood."

Then she turned to me, her expression innocent, almost angelic. "Megan, please don't argue with Julian. It was my sprained ankle that ruined everyone's mood that day. I invited everyone over today to apologize. If this is causing problems between you two, I feel so guilty."

I could see right through her act. Selena wasn’t the first "woman" Julian had brought around, and I had always ignored it before. But after spending an entire week in that hospital bed, things were finally clear.

And at that moment, I was done.

I took a breath, turned slowly, and met Selena's eyes, locking in with a steady gaze. "Cut the act. It's nauseating."

Her eyes widened in surprise, but I wasn't finished.

"Apologizing here?" I scoffed, glancing around the room. "I almost thought this was your house. My house doesn't have you screeching like a parrot."

I stepped forward, closing the space between us, my voice low and controlled. "Stop playing the mistress who thinks she's leveling up. If you manage to get Julian to divorce me, then maybe—just maybe—I'll give you some credit."

With that, I turned on my heel, refusing to stay any longer to watch the shock on their faces. I walked straight into the house, not bothering to look back.

No sooner had I entered than I heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering, followed by Julian's enraged shout.

"This is outrageous! Completely outrageous!"

His voice oozed fury as he continued, "What did Megan do this time? Since when does she get to make decisions in this house? She's just an orphan with no parents! How dare she talk to me like that?!"

Hearing him spit those words sent a sharp pang through my chest. My body sagged against the door frame, and before I knew it, the tears I'd been holding back finally spilled over, heavy and relentless.

Yes, I'm an orphan.

Four years ago, my parents died in a plane crash. Despite my overwhelming grief, confusion, and shock, I had to focus on arranging the funeral and cleaning up the mess at the company.

The first time I saw Julian was at my parents' funeral. Everything felt like it was happening in a blur, faces blending together in a haze of grief, but Julian stood out. He was the first to approach me when everyone else lingered at a distance, whispering behind their hands.

After that, Julian didn't back off. Not once. He pursued me with relentless intensity. He'd show up to pick me up from work, drop me off at home, and surprise me with flowers or little gifts—always unexpected, always with that same eager, hopeful look in his eyes.

And every time, I turned him down. But he didn't take it personally. It was as if my rejection only fueled him, like a game he refused to lose. He kept showing up, day after day, until one afternoon when the company's partners and the bank showed up, demanding answers.

I can still remember that day so clearly. They walked into the office, their faces stern, their words sharp. They wanted guarantees. They didn't believe I could handle the company on my own.

I was still reeling, struggling to keep it together, too shaken to even form coherent thoughts. And that's when Julian stepped in.

"He's right," Julian had said, his voice a low growl, staring down at the men blocking the entrance. "Her parents just died, and you're here trying to pressure a grieving woman? Is that really how you want to do business?”

He turned to the bank representatives, his voice firm, all traces of kindness gone. "Hughes Corporation will back Wilson Corporation. Your loan is covered. No more questions."

It was bold, a power move, but it worked. The tension in the room dissolved instantly. The partners and the bank reps backed off as if they'd been given an order they had no choice but to obey.

The company wasn't in immediate danger, but after my parents' death, the partners hesitated to put me fully in charge. They didn't trust that I could manage everything, especially not alone. Julian's intervention shifted the dynamic. They saw him as a protector, someone with influence. And in that moment, I started to realize how dependent I was becoming on him.

Later, when the office had emptied and the noise of the day faded away, I was still too stunned to say a word. I couldn't shake the feeling of being small, of being lost.

And that's when Julian pulled me into his arms, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"Megan," he murmured, his voice lower than usual, almost tender. "Trust me. Let me help. I can be your support."

Everything around me felt like it was falling apart, but his words—his simple offer of support—felt like a lifeline.

"I know you're not ready for all this business stuff," he continued, his gaze steady and serious. "I can wait for you. I'm not going anywhere."

Then, his tone shifted, and I saw something more than determination in his eyes for the first time. "Megan," he said, his voice resolute. "I'm not just trying to date you. I want to marry you. Let's build a future together."

Maybe it was the shock of everything that had happened over the last few weeks, or maybe my nerves were just shot, but those words hit me harder than anything.