Crying and cursing under my breath, I dug through the very bottom of the drawer and found my first love letter to him.
The paper had yellowed with age.
What I’d written on it was still clear.
[Tucker, I’ll keep waiting until you like me.]
I stared at it for a long time, then gently placed it at the very bottom of the box.
‘Verity from ten years ago,’ I thought, ‘I’m sorry. I don’t want to wait for him anymore.’
Tucker came home very late that night.
The cardboard boxes on the floor were impossible to miss. He glanced at them, his brow tightening slightly, like he wanted to say something.
But the hesitation passed quickly.
To him, it was probably just me being moody again—nothing worth paying attention to.
He changed his shoes, his tone casual as ever.
“Why are you packing things up?”
When I didn’t respond, he paused, then added, “Stuff’s old? Thinking of replacing it?”
I answered quietly, “Mm.”
He looked at me for a couple of seconds, as if confirming I wasn’t about to start a fight, then didn’t ask anything else.
He was never good at dealing with my emotions.
And he’d never felt the need to try very hard.
It never once crossed his mind that I might be packing because I was leaving.
I bet in his heart, he was completely certain of one thing: I would never leave him.
After showering, Tucker got into bed like he always did and pulled me into his arms from behind.
His chin rested lightly on my shoulder. His breath was close, his voice low and rough with desire.
“Dad called me today. He said it’s time we have a kid.”
Verity’s POV
At that moment, it felt like something caved in inside my chest.
From the time we got home until now, Tucker never once mentioned the bank card.
Instead, he talked about my dad pushing us to have a baby.
But he obviously doesn’t love me!
So to him, was a child never about love—just something to appease my dad?
I felt short of breath and pushed Tucker away without thinking.
He paused, clearly startled, then his brows knitted together.
“What’s wrong?”
I’d never turned him down before—not even when I wasn’t feeling well. This was the first time.
I took a breath. My throat felt tight. “I’m on my period. I’m uncomfortable.”
He contradicted me almost immediately.
“That can’t be right. I’ve counted—your period shouldn’t be today.”
I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a quiet laugh.
It was shallow but laced with a sarcasm even I couldn’t suppress.