My Husband, My Best Friend, and Their Dirty Little Secret

I blinked and suddenly it clicked.

“You’re talking about my old number, right? I lost my phone back then and ended up changing it.”

His eyes widened slightly and I offered an apologetic smile.

“I was abroad at the time, so I didn’t get around to replacing the SIM card. Then… well, it just slipped my mind.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay! It’s totally fine!” he said quickly. “Here—add me. This time, use the number linked to your WeChat too!”

I nodded, a little amused by how animated he was. Honestly, if he were a puppy, his tail would’ve been spinning like a propeller by now.

After we exchanged contact info, Harry insisted on walking me to the hospital entrance. I smiled my thanks and turned around—only to nearly collide with someone. Strong hands caught me as I stumbled. I looked up and met Frans’s stormy gaze. So… he thought I came here to meet Harry on purpose?

I didn’t bother explaining. I tilted my head, meeting his eyes calmly.

“You installed a tracker in my car?”

Frans didn’t deny it. He simply reached out and tried to pull me into his arms.

“Come home with me.”

“Hey! Hands off!” Harry stepped between us.

Frans’s expression turned even colder. “Who the hell are you? This has nothing to do with you.”

“I’m her senior,” Harry snapped back. “Once a senior, always a senior. Got a problem with that?”

Before I could speak, a car door shut behind us—and Zaney stepped down from the passenger seat. Of course. That seat again. She’s really made herself comfortable there. I pulled away from Frans’s hand and turned to Harry.

“If it’s not too much trouble… could you give me a ride?”

Harry nodded instantly. “Of course. I drive smooth as silk. Unlike some people, I don’t let just anyone use my front seat.”

Frans’s expression was priceless—caught somewhere between fury and humiliation. For the first time in a long while, I felt the urge to laugh. But before we could leave, Zaney rushed toward me, grasping my hand.

“Sheryl, I’m really sorry about this morning. Don’t misunderstand Frans. We just played games all night—if you don’t believe me, you can check the match history.”

I looked at her coldly. Her “no makeup” look was clearly a strategic touch-up. Even her outfit had been carefully chosen to match Frans’s.

There was a faint fir scent lingering on her. It was his scent. Blended with her own floral perfume, it hit me like a wave. Nausea surged without warning. I didn’t even try to hold it back—I turned and threw up right on Zaney.

For a second, her face twisted in sheer disgust. I calmly took the tissue Harry handed me and dabbed the corners of my mouth, hiding a faint smile.

“Sorry,” I said softly, “I’m a bit delicate these days. When I get indigestion, it just comes up. You were standing a bit too close—can’t really blame me.”

The smell hit the air seconds later. Frans’s face twitched as he glanced at her stained blouse.

“Zaney… maybe you should take a cab…”

I took a step back, putting more distance between us, then waved.

“I’ve got things to do. See you around.”

***

Harry was unusually quiet after that. For someone who used to chatter endlessly, he didn’t say another word until the car had left the hospital grounds. I glanced sideways and noticed the tension in his brow. He was angry. But not with them—with me.

Finally, as the city blurred past the windows, he spoke.

“You’re getting a divorce?”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”

He kept his eyes forward, silent for a moment, his expression unreadable.

Then, as if he’d reached some quiet resolution, he gave a slight nod. “…Good.”