A Message From My Future Husband Set Him Free—So Did I Chapter 02
On day four, Julian came home early for once. He wore a charcoal gray suit, his hair carefully styled.
“I’ve been neglecting you lately. Let me take you out for a nice dinner. My way of apologizing.”
I glanced at him and the words slipped out.
“Don’t bother. Don’t you have to go take care of Skylar?”
The moment the words left my mouth, the atmosphere grew tense.
Julian’s face darkened, his brow furrowing.
“Amelia, I don’t—” His voice turned icy. “I already agreed not to get a divorce. Why can’t you just let this go?”
I took a slow breath and met his angry eyes, a bitter smile forming.
“You leave the office at four every day. You go to the hospital. Skylar’s room is on the twelfth floor.”
“You say you’re not. So how about showing me your phone?”
His pupils contracted, his anger rising.
“Amelia, we agreed before we got married. We would give each other space.”
“Since when did you become like this? You can’t even manage basic trust?”
I watched him play the victim, my nails digging into my palms.
Last summer, Skylar posted a picture.
In it, she had her head tilted back, her lips pressed to the corner of Julian’s mouth.
The caption said: [Truth or Dare. He chose Dare.]
I shoved the phone in his face and demanded an explanation. All I got was his impatient response.
“It was just a game. Why are you making such a big deal out of it? Amelia, marriage is about trust.”
The trust I gave him became the knife he turned on me.
His phone buzzed. Julian glanced at it, then turned to grab his keys.
“Amelia, I can’t ignore it when it comes to Skylar.”
“As her sister-in-law, I hope you can try to understand her a little more.”
An hour later, the doorbell rang.
A man in a black suit stood outside. It was Julian’s assistant.
“Mrs. Cross,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “Mr. Cross asked me to bring you to the hospital. Ms. Vance wants to see you.”
The room was on the twelfth floor, where fresh lilies sat in a vase on the windowsill, water droplets still on the petals.
Julian brought them for Skylar every day.
Skylar leaned against the bed, bandages wrapped around her wrist.
When she saw me, her eyes lit up.
A second later, she threw herself into Julian’s arms, her hands locked tight around his neck.
Julian’s hands hovered in the air. He looked at me.
“Amelia, Skylar wants to talk with you.”
Skylar lifted her head from his chest, a hint of mockery in her eyes.
“Amelia,” she said, her tone condescending. “You know, Julian was always mine.”
“Our mothers were best friends. We grew up together. When we were little, we did everything together, shared secrets, ate side by side.”
“He said we’d get married when we grew up. He just forgot later.”
I let out a cold laugh and spoke clearly. “He didn’t forget. He just didn’t pick you.”
Her face twisted. She grabbed a pillow and threw it at me.
“You’re lying! You stole him from me!”
When I stepped aside to dodge it, she shrieked and lunged off the bed, shoving me hard with both hands.
“You have to give him back!”
I stumbled back two steps, the small of my back hitting the corner of a table. I fell to the floor, crying out sharply in pain.
My palms scraped against the ground, stinging.