The Lies He Told | PSYCHOLOGICAL THRILLER ROMANCE |

CHAPTER TWENTY

"So, where is my niece or nephew? I was promised a baby to shower with gifts and love." Davina's joke did not land with accuracy, for I did not want to be a mother yet, which reminded me that I had forgotten to sort birth control. "My brother said you have been trying for months, and nothing is happening."

Is there anyone Daniel had not informed about the vicissitudes of our attempts to conceive? He might find it hard to believe, but some aspects of marital life should be considered private and confidential. Yet, he is committed to all and sundry.

"Perhaps you might want to consider In-vitro-fertilisation." Virginia is on her second portion of the cake. "If you both leave it any longer, I might not be around to enjoy the grandchildren."

"You might consider extending an invitation to spend time with your existing grandchildren," Darlene emphasised that her parents had not been dedicating quality time to Harriet and Henry. "Your presence has been rather infrequent, limited to special occasions. My children are not mere commodities; they require more than financial support to establish a meaningful relationship with you."

Virginia's breath caught in her throat. "I devote a significant portion of time to my grandchildren."

"What?" Darlene cast a disapproving glance at Jeremiah when he tapped her elbow, silently telling him not to interject into matters beyond his purview. "No, I will not be quiet. I have every right to confront my mother when she demonstrates hypocritical behaviour!"

"You shall not disrespect your mother," Walter sternly reproached his eldest daughter, rising to his wife's vindication. He forcefully placed the silverware onto the table, the abrupt motion causing the vintage candelabras to shake and the flames to quiver. "And you will apologise for introducing contempt in my household."

Darlene's watery eyes travelled over the ceiling. "Mother," she whispered, and my heart twinged at the sight of her trying not to cry. "I deeply regret any distress I may have caused you."

Impatience gnawed at me as I waited for the night to end (I had never craved my bed so much in my life).

The prospect of reuniting with my in-laws was always a joy, but an unmistakable sense of apprehension filled the room, throbbing at my temples and inducing a dull ache.

It was time to go home.

Even though I had only sipped delicately from a solitary glass of champagne throughout the night, I craved instantaneous relief.

As soon as I crossed the threshold of our secluded cliff house, I made a beeline for the kitchen, fumbling for two paracetamol tablets, desperate for some respite.

I set about ironing clean laundry, each garment hanging on the rack, ready to be packed for his impending week in the big city. When I got to the master bedroom, I was a careful juggler, balancing suits on hangers and neatly folded pyjamas and boxer briefs in my arms.

Daniel stood by the window, his sinewy body gleaming with droplets from his recent shower. A fluffy white towel was knotted around his waist, its fabric contrasting with the bronzed skin of his hips and thighs. He was engrossed in a text message conversation on his phone, his lips curved into a faint smile.

A fleeting curiosity stirred within me, prompting me to wonder who might be on the receiving end of his text messages. However, my pride held me back from inquiring. I unzipped his travel case and methodically placed his belongings inside.

With his luggage packed and ready for the forthcoming trip, I entered the bathroom for a quick, soothing wash before retiring for the night. I deserved a bath, but a shower would suffice.

Skin too hot to touch and smelling like roses, I wrapped a towel around my body, flung the ensuite door open, billowing steamy and soapy footprints lingering in my wake, and espied my husband relaxing on the bed.