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Dear Wife, I Hate You (by Josephine Mbanefo) novel Chapter 65

Killian’s Pov

I took my time today. I didn’t go to work, so I just stayed home and worked on a few things. Working, and working, and working. When I finally checked the time, it was almost time for my date.

Not just any date.

A perfect date. With my wife.

I walked to my closet, took my time choosing one of my most expensive suits. Because what? We’re not going on a regular date. This one had to be special. Fancy. Memorable.

After I picked the suit, I hit the shower. Took my time. Cleaned every part of me like I was going to meet the Queen herself. Then I came out, dressed up, wore everything with care. Sprayed my cologne, fixed my watch, adjusted my cuffs.

Everything had to be perfect

Then I called her.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Are you done preparing?” I asked

“Yes,” she said quickly. I’m done

“I’m done too.” I told her. “Tm coming out now

“Okay,” she said and ended the call.

Just like that.

No “see you soon,” no “alright. She ended the call har I was disturbing her. I laughed a little to myself. That’s her business. Whether she likes it or not, we’re still going out tonight

I stepped out of my room.

And that was when I saw her.

Coming out of her room, walking gracefully like she owned the whole damn house. And she should–because she just stole every breath in my lungs

She was beautiful.

No, not just beautiful. She was fire.

She wore this black, body–hugging gown that flowed like water. The jewelry on her neck sparkled with every step she took. Her eyes were bold, shining under the hallway lights.

God, I froze. Right on my track I’ve never seen someone so fucking beautiful.

As she got closer, I walked too, and gently hooked my arm around her waist. I leaned down and gave her a soft peck on her lips.

I could tell she was uncomfortable. I could feel it in how stiff she became.

“You look… nice,” she said, almost forcing the words out.

I smirked. “Thanks, my wife should have picked it,” I teased, then let go of her waist and held out my palm for her to hold.

She stared at it and ignored it completely.

“Let’s go,” she said, walking ahead.

I chuckled. “So no hand holding? No handshake? Who’s the boring one now?”

She looked over her shoulder. “It’s you.”

Fair enough.

We walked out together and entered the car. She shifted all the way to the edge and just stared out the window, like I wasn’t even there.

That cut me.

But I didn’t say a word. I just told the driver where to go–a private restaurant, one of the best in the country, not far from the house.

She kept looking out the window. I kept pressing my phone.

No words. Just silence.

When we got there, she was the first to move. As she reached for the door, I said, “I’m not going to disappoint you today. This will be the best date you’ve ever had.”

She looked back and simply said, “Okay.”

We stepped out.

We walked into the restaurant together, side by side. A woman–probably the manager–approached with a bright smile.

“Welcome, Mr. Williams,” she said. “Your reservation is ready. Right this way.”

I nodded, placed my hand gently on Lilith’s back, and followed the woman.

She led us to a corner–quiet, private, perfect.

It was the kind of corner no one could bother us in. No one could hear what we were saying. No cameras. No distractions. Just us.

Exactly what I wanted.

Lilith sat down first, crossed her legs, and looked around like she was trying to memorize the place. I joined her on the seat right after.

Not even a second passed and the waitress was already at our table, smiling politely.

“Good evening. May I take your order?”

I nodded and handed Lilith one of the menus while I took the other. I could feel the energy around us–it wasn’t soft, it wasn’t warm–but it was something. At least she showed up.

After placing our orders, the waitress smiled again. “I’ll be back shortly,” she said, then walked off.

I turned to Lilith. “How do you like the place? Is it to your taste?”

She replied without looking at me. “It’s good.”

“Just good?”

She sighed and looked me dead in the eye. “What do you want me to say? That it’s the most beautiful restaurant I’ve ever seen? That I’m overwhelmed by your romantic gesture?” She scoffed lightly. “It’s good.”

“Okay, okay. Don’t be dramatic,” I said, shaking my head with a small smile.

She smirked. “You asked for it.” Then she pulled out her phone and started scrolling through pictures–paintings, to be exact.

“This is a date, Lilith. You’re supposed to be giving me your attention, not some random paintings on Pinterest.”

She didn’t even glance at me. “You’re not saying anything.”

“Then you say something.”

“I don’t have anything to say.”

She still didn’t lift her eyes from the screen.

I took a deep breath. “Please don’t anger me.”

She shrugged. “Do your thing then.”

So I pulled out my own phone and started scrolling too. I didn’t even know what I was looking at—just anything to fill thespace.

Minutes later, the waitress returned with trays full of food. Every variety she could possibly think of. She placed each one down like she was building a feast. I thanked her with a nod, then looked at Lilith.

“Let’s eat and enjoy.”

Lilith said nothing, just pulled her plate closer.

As we ate, I asked, “So… apart from painting, what else do you like?”

She paused mid–bite and glanced at me like I was some school interviewer.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I want to know everything about you,” I said honestly. “Why don’t you let me in?”

“Oh, that’s sudden. Because when I wanted to share before, you weren’t interested.”

Ouch.

“I’m sorry. I’m interested now. Tell me.”

“That’s good. I don’t read much fiction, but that’s nice. Do you enjoy cooking?”

“Yes.”

Short answers. One–word replies. She was shutting me out, and I knew it. But I didn’t care. I’d keep trying.

“What’s your favourite colour?” I asked.

She put her spoon down and turned to me slowly. “Let’s just eat, Killian. No more questions. And really? You’re asking about favourite colours like we’re in kindergarten?”

“You think I’m joking when I say I want to know everything?”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Black.”

“Thank you,” I said softly.

“And I would not appreciate any more questions. Let me eat and go read my books in peace.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Thank you.”

We continued eating in silence. But it wasn’t just silence–it was thick, filled with tension neither of us wanted to admit. Still,

I couldn’t stop watching her. The way she lifted her fork, the way her lips pressed together when she chewed, the way her brows creased just slightly in thought.

When I was done eating, I wiped my mouth and leaned back.

She was still eating.

Then, slowly, I leaned a little closer to her–not to scare her. Just enough to reach her space.

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