Dear Wife, I Hate You (by Josephine Mbanefo) novel Chapter 51

Nolan’s Pov

 She was asleep.

Right there on my couch, her head tilted slightly, her fingers curled loosely over her lap, breathing slow and peaceful like she didn’t just walk into the home of a man who drugged her wine.

What the hell have I done?

I kept asking myself. Over and over.

Why?

Why did I do it?

I wasn’t supposed to.

1 told myself I just wanted to see her like this–still, calm, soft. I told myself it was harmless. I told myself I wouldn’t do anything beyond watching her.

But even that felt wrong. It was wrong.

I should’ve let her go. I should’ve stopped myself. But I didn’t. And now here I was, standing in front of her, frozen.

Madness.

I bent down, gently picked her up in my arms. She didn’t stir. Her head rested against my chest like it belonged there.

This is wrong, Nolan.

But I didn’t stop.

I carried her to the guest room downstairs, the one with the white sheets and soft lighting. The one that felt like her.

I laid her on the bed, then just stood there, staring like some idiot. Her hair had fallen over her face. I reached out and tucked it behind her ear. Then I did something even dumber.

I touched her lips.

Soft. Warm.

And then I leaned in. Pressed a kiss to her cheek. My voice came out in a whisper, low, like I was confessing to God Himself.

“I’m obsessed with you, Lilith. Completely.”

I straightened, ran a hand through my hair, pacing.

What the hell am I going to say when she wakes up?

She’s going to freak out.

She’ll probably think I’m a damn psychopath.

But I’m not.

I’m really not.

I just… I care about her. A lot. Maybe too much. Maybe this isn’t love, maybe it’s something else. But it’s deep. And it’s real.

And Killian? He’s probably off screwing someone else in one of his penthouses. That guy has no idea what he has.

But I do.

She deserves peace.

I removed my shoes, walked around the bed and lay beside her. I kept a little distance. Just enough. But I could still feel her warmth next to me.

I’ll figure out what to say. I always do.

Before I closed my eyes, I picked up her phone. I powered it off. But something about that felt too far, too dangerous. So I powered it back on and placed it on the side table.

Then I closed my eyes. And slept.

I felt a nudge.

A soft tap. Then another.

“Wake up… Nolan, wake up.”

Her voice.

I kept my eyes closed. Tried to pretend I was out cold. Maybe she wouldn’t ask questions.

But I opened my eyes slowly, and there she was, staring at me, confusion all over her face.

“What happened?” she asked. “What am I doing here?”

I rubbed my eyes like I was trying to piece things together. “What happened to you?” I asked, keeping my voice low and tired. “I should be asking you that.”

“I remember taking a nap… but then I passed out or something,” she said.

“Yeah, you seemed really tired,” I replied. “I brought you here so you could rest. Then I guess… I passed out too.”

“Must’ve been the wine,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, I agreed, nodding. “I think there’s something off with that brand. First time trying it. I’ll get rid of it.”

She looked down at her phone.

Her brows furrowed.

“Oh my God, it’s 11:32?” she gasped. “It’s almost midnight!”

“Shit,” I muttered, sitting up. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to–if you hadn’t woken me up, I’d still be asleep.”

“I need to go,” she said quickly. “What if Killian thinks I’m doing something wrong?”

That name again.

She still thinks about him. Still worries about what he’ll say.

And he’s probably in his other house right now with some whore while she’s here–here with someone who actually cares about her.

But she doesn’t see that. She doesn’t see me.

She dialed Killian.

Once. No answer.

Twice. Nothing.

I raised a brow.

“He’s not picking?” I asked.

She nodded. “No.”

She stood up. “I have to go now.”

“Would you be comfortable going this late?” I asked her, already on my feet.

“Yes, I’ll be fine,” she said.

I grabbed my keys. “Okay. Let me escort you.”

As I drove her home, I could feel her nervousness bleeding into the air around us. She was fidgeting, barely holding her phone, her fingers tangled with her scarf like they were trying to protect her from guilt.

When we reached her mansion, I turned to her.

“You don’t have to be nervous, Lilith. You didn’t do anything wrong,” I said gently. “We were talking. Putting the puzzle pieces together. That’s all. It just… happened. Killian will understand. Eventually.”

She looked at me, unsure. Then nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

She reached for the door. “Goodnight, Nolan.”

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