He Traded My Trauma for Her Redemption

Afterward, whenever we were alone, he would hold me tighter than usual, burying his face in the crook of my neck and breathing me in deeply.

It was as if that was how he expressed the overwhelming love he couldn’t put into words.

That convinced me to forgive him.

After all, love didn’t need to be proven to others.

Maybe he just didn’t know how to say the words I love you.

But when he faced the camera, holding another woman’s hand, he looked so sure—so full of affection.

Who said Jayden didn’t know how to woo a woman?

He knew far too well.

I lay still in our bed, staring as the sunlight gradually filled the room.

Later, once again, the sound of a car echoed in the courtyard.

Not long after, I heard a woman’s voice.

“Jayden, is this really okay? Won’t Cordelia be angry? You’re married, after all.”

“My home is your home. That has nothing to do with my marriage.”

Then came the sound of the woman laughing freely.

They must’ve started a house tour because I heard the sound of their footsteps moving back and forth.

“Get some rest,” he said. “From now on, treat this place as your own home.”

“Alright.”

The door opened.

When he saw me sitting up in bed, fully awake, his steps only faltered slightly.

“You’re up,” he said. “Good. I was just about to talk to you.”

I stared coldly at his shirt—rumpled, clearly the same one he had been wearing when he left last night.

Every wrinkle felt like a mocking reminder of how easily my so-called love had been crushed.

“Jayden,” I said quietly, “this isn’t just your home. It’s mine too.”

He let out a sigh.

“Ivy has nowhere to go right now. Let her stay here for the time being.”

“Absolutely not.”

His brows creased. His usually gentle face now carried a sharp edge, leaving no room for argument.

“Cordelia, I’m not asking for your permission.”

I forced a smile through the sting in my chest.

“So you let her move in today. What next? Share a room with her tomorrow?” I asked, my anger rising despite my efforts to stay composed.

The next second, I snapped, “Why not just buy another place next door? That way, when the two of you are basking in your affection, I won’t be in the way!”

The colder his gaze became, the heavier my heart sank.

Just as the tension between us peaked, a delicate voice chimed in from behind him. “Jayden, don’t fight with Cordelia because of me.”

“I know she still holds resentment toward me,” she continued. “I made mistakes when I was young and foolish. It’s understandable that she can’t forgive me. Don’t ruin your marriage over me.”

“If it really doesn’t work out, I’ll stay at a hotel instead,” she insisted. “It’s all the same to me.”

She walked in with graceful poise, as if the trauma she caused me was just a fleeting inconvenience, easily brushed aside.

Worse still, she played the part of the generous, understanding woman—giving him a way out, making herself look considerate.

Maybe my stare was too cold because tears welled up in Ivy’s eyes as she moved a little closer to the man beside her.

And my husband—this aloof, intellectual man—wrapped his hand around her frail shoulder.

“Cordelia,” he said, “try to be more like Ivy. Don’t make things harder for me.”

I responded by slamming the bedroom door so hard it shook the walls.

But even that couldn’t stop the fact that Ivy had moved into my home.

As I leaned against the door, crying in silence, I heard her voice again from outside.

“I’m sorry, Jayden.”

He laughed softly. “It’s you who’s been wronged. I’m sorry. I’ll handle things with Cordelia.”

“It’s all my fault…” she murmured.

Their voices grew fainter as they walked away together.

I collapsed to the floor, suddenly realizing just how badly my hands were trembling.

Turns out, deep down, I had never really gotten over the damage Ivy caused me.

Just the sight of her raising her hand ever so slightly—was enough to send a wave of fear straight through my chest.