Facade of Love

Chapter 89

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Chapter 89 Signs of Pregnancy

Our eyes locked. Idris’s eyes were a deep, dark black. I could not decipher what he was

thinking at that moment, only that there was something more in his gaze that I could not

quite grasp.

restaurant is ready. Please join us!” Charles’s voice echoed

“Mr. Young, Mrs. Young, d

through the air.

At the sound of Charles’s voice, Idris released my hand. He did not give me an answer,

just glanced at Charles, a silent acknowledgment.

Seeing this, Charles wisely retreated.

Within the vast courtyard, it was just the two of us. The silence was so profound it was

almost unsettling.

Unable to wait for his answer. I decided not to prolong this standoff. I pl meal at the

restaurant and head back to the Scotts’ place early.

sh my

Idris grabbed my wrist. Seeing this, I frowned, my patience wearing thin. I looke holding

back my irritation, and said, “Idris, if you’re not hungry and don’t want to you please let

go of me? I want to go eat. Please, let go!”

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He furrowed his brows slightly, his dark eyes narrowing a bit. He responded with a questio

that seemed to come out of left field. “What about you?”

I was taken aback, a bit lost, but it was only for a moment. Then it hit me.

Me?

Did I love him?

It felt like I had known the answer for a long time.

It did not seem to matter anymore. After all, what could I do if I said it? Moore was

irreplaceable in his heart. If I confessed, I would only be setting myself up for

disappointment.

I pressed my l*ps together, shrugged off his hand, and said, “Alright, I was just asking you

casually. We both know we don’t love each other. Our marriage is nothing more than a

business arrangement. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you with such pointless questions

anymore. I’m starving, let’s go eat.”

With that, I turned and trotted off toward the dining room without a backward glance.

A wave of unspoken loneliness washed over me. I felt some relief that I bore no hope for

our love, at least it would save us from hearing the other’s rejection and making thi

The old mansion’s dining room was reserved for family gatherings. The ta enough to seat

a small army. It was Madam Young’s birthday banquet, a younger generations had

returned.

In the world of the wealthy elite, relationships were not exactly cold to

was friendly on the surface, but nob*dy knew what actually happens behind

After exchanging pleasantries with the Youngs’ uncles, I tried to make myself as

inconspicuous as possible. Idris was different. Madam Young favored him, so when he sur

up, everyone flocked to him to say hello.

This gave me a temporary reprieve from facing Idris’s icy demeanor.

Madam Young soon arrived, assisted by Mr. Zachary. As soon as she was seated, Mr.

Zachary signaled the chef to start serving.

The Youngs were strict about manners, and the dining table was almost silent. I was really

hungry, but the atmosphere was so formal that I lost my appetite, even for the table full of

exotic delicacies.

Looking at some of the meats that I usually loved, for some reason, they smelled off, and

stomach started to churn.

After dinner, Idris was in a foul mood and we left the old mansion together.

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Once we were in the car, we had not been driving long when I felt a wave of nausea and

started to retch.

Upon seeing my discomfort, Idris quickly pulled the car over. He encouraged me to let it all

out, and I did, emptying my stomach until there was nothing left but bitter bile. I was still

dry heaving uncontrollably.

Idris, worried, thought I might have eaten something bad at dinner. He was about to call

Mr. Zachary to inquire about the meal when I managed to stop him. “No need to call,” I

reassured him, “I’m fine. It’s probably just car sickness. I’ll feel better soon.”

He looked at me, concern etching lines into his forehead. He stayed with me by the

roadside until I felt somewhat better, and then we continued our journey. I had thought the

discomfort was temporary, but to my dismay, the dry heaving persisted all the way home.

By the time we arrived at the Scotts, my face was as white as a sheet. My mother, who

had been waiting anxiously, rushed over as soon as I stepped out of the car. “What

happened? Why are you so pale?” she asked, worry clear in her voice.

I shook my head, my stomach still churning. I hurried inside and made a beeline for the

bathroom, where I was hit with another wave of nausea.

My mother followed me in, her hand soothingly rubbing my back. “I’ve been wondering

why you haven’t shown any signs of morning sickness,” she mused. “I thought your

pregnancy was going much smoother than mine did. I guess the symptoms were just

delayed.”

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