BAD WIFE

Chapter {31}

When they arrived home, the house seemed to exhale along with them, settling into silence as each child stumbled off to bed without protest. The day had been long, thrilling, and emotionally full. Within minutes, a deep stillness blanketed the household as they all slipped into sleep, lost in the haze of dreams.

But not Clarissa.

Sometime in the night, she jolted awake, drenched in sweat, her breath uneven and her chest tight. A haunting ache bloomed in her chest—grief? longing? She couldn't remember the dream, not clearly, but the feeling it left behind rooted itself in her bones. Her limbs trembled as if they'd been chasing something precious and unreachable.

She sat up slowly, brushing damp strands of hair from her forehead, her pulse thudding like a distant warning drum. The room felt too quiet. Too hollow. Her gaze drifted to the hallway, instinctively considering slipping into one of the kids' beds—but that wasn't where her body wanted to go. It was like a magnet had taken over her will.

Almost without thought, her bare feet padded across the cool floor, guiding her to the one place her subconscious had already chosen: Jacob's room.

She gently turned the knob, the door giving a faint creak that made her pause, breath catching. The room was shrouded in darkness, but the soft glow of the moon through the window traced the silhouette of his form in the bed. He was sprawled out, shirtless, one arm tucked behind his head and the other resting across the hardened planes of his abdomen.

The mere sight of him soothed something wild inside her.

She hovered for a moment, her fingers nervously twisting in front of her, teeth grazing her bottom lip in hesitation. But the storm inside her had quieted the voice of reason. Her heart was steering now.

She crept forward and gingerly lifted the blanket. The instant his warmth wrapped around her, she released a slow breath and sank into it—into him. Into the crook of his arm, her cheek resting against the heat of his chest, the strong beat of his heart syncing with hers like it always used to.

Without waking, he responded instinctively—his arm stretched out, circling her, pulling her in, snuggling her closer like she belonged there. His other hand found her waist, fingers brushing softly against the thin fabric of her sleepwear.

The safety of him—his scent, his heat, the way he surrounded her—lulled her back to sleep.

Some time later, Jacob stirred. As his eyes blinked open, confusion flared for a moment at the weight pressed into him. He expected Emmie. But then he looked down... and everything in him stilled.

Clarissa.

His heart stopped. Then raced.

Her delicate frame curled into him like it was the most natural place in the world, and for a moment, he questioned whether he was still dreaming. His miracle—real, solid, and breathing soft into his chest—was asleep in his arms.

He didn't move. Didn't dare. Just gazed down at her, awe widening his eyes and melting something inside him that he thought had long since frozen over.

When had she last come to him like this? Voluntarily? Seeking his warmth? His comfort?

He didn't know how long he lay there, watching the rise and fall of her breath, brushing his lips to her temple, resting his cheek on her forehead. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the familiar sweetness of her scent, and for once in a very long time—he felt whole.

It was everything.

He hadn't asked for this. Hadn't even dared to hope. And yet, tonight—he felt like the universe had given him the only thing that mattered.