I Married My Ex-Husband’s Uncle While He Was Comatose

Arthur quickly shut off the tablet, yanked his coat over his lap to hide the bulge, and put on his usual cold, ascetic mask.

His long legs, encased in tailored slacks, were visibly tense as he stood. In that moment of panic, I found myself staring at his chiseled features—his high nose bridge, sharp jawline, and lips that always seemed poised to mock. He really was born with a face that could ruin lives.

Without a word, he picked up a glass of water, walked toward the door, and—splash—poured it straight on me.

He did it on purpose.

He thought I was spying on him.

Arthur's gaze swept from my soaked hair down to my soaked chest, and he turned away with a flash of disgust. "Didn’t I tell you not to come into my study?"

Water trickled down my face, slid over my chest, and soaked through the white blouse I wore. I knew exactly what he was thinking—that I was trying to seduce him again. Fine. I gave him the satisfaction.

I wiped my face, undid the top two buttons of my shirt, and exposed the smooth line of my collarbone. "I was just worried my husband’s excessive desire might burn up his liver."

His eyes flinched toward the glimpse of skin before his face twisted. "Don’t think marriage gives you the right to dream. I will never fall in love with you."

I stayed silent. But his tone grew colder, his words sharper. "I’ll be responsible for you, that’s all. Stop deluding yourself."

What a joke. The man could be aroused just by Loren’s voice, but I could strip naked in front of him and he’d recoil.

My nails dug into my palms to keep myself from exploding.

I grabbed his sleeve. "Do you even know what day it is today?"

I regretted it immediately.

"What now? Didn’t I tell you to stay out if there’s nothing urgent?" He pried my fingers off like I was some disgusting burden.

I felt the embarrassment crawl up my throat, but I forced a smile anyway. My eyes fell to the faint lipstick smudge on his collar—soft pink, definitely not mine. My mind flashed back to that photo: the tenderness in his eyes as he kissed Loren.

He never loved me. He married me because of a sense of duty. I knew that. But I didn’t expect that with time, duty would turn to contempt.

Even our son preferred Loren. Even he told me to get lost.

Loren—the eternal heroine of our shared life. She always had to win. She always did.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

Seven years. That’s all it was.

"Tomorrow’s seminar is critical for the institute’s future funding. As the core member, you’re expected to attend," I said coolly, buttoning my blouse as I turned to leave.

Arthur snorted. "I told you—I don’t waste time on those shallow business exchanges. I’m not going."

I didn’t even glance back. "Loren’s company will be there too."

A pause. Then his voice, low but decisive: "Fine. I’ll go."

My heart clenched.

Right on cue. Mention Loren, and he would toss aside every principle.

It’s fine. Very soon, he won’t have to pretend anymore. I’ll leave, and the stage will be all hers.

—

The next morning, I sat leisurely at the table, sipping hand-brewed black coffee and slowly enjoying a sandwich. For once, the house was quiet. Peaceful.

Arthur came storming down the stairs, irritation written all over his face. He had a wrinkled shirt in one hand and a suit in the other.

"What am I supposed to wear today? Why didn’t you iron anything or help coordinate like you usually do?"

I didn’t even look up. "You’ve always said you hate me touching your things."

"You—" He stopped short, visibly frustrated, but before he could respond, a sleepy voice chimed in.

"Mom, where’s my breakfast?" Abraham rubbed his eyes and looked at the empty plate on the table. His lower lip quivered.

I took another sip of coffee. "I used to wake up early every day to make you breakfast, but you always had something to complain about. From now on, you can ask your dad."

Abraham pouted, turned to his father, and said, "Buy me something. Give me money." Then he grabbed the cash and stormed off.

Arthur stood there, dumbfounded. Something about Lora felt... off lately. Different. But he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He shook his head and buried the thought. He had more important things to do—like seeing Loren.