The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 472

Every night, when she couldn't sleep, he couldn't either. He would hold the trash can for her, bring her warm water, and hold her, gently patting her back.

Days passed like this, as if the tragedies had already faded from their lives.

But…

"I feel like this life isn't real," Penelope confided in Hannah James.

Hannah paused for a moment. "Everyone's just pretending."

"Yes. At least, I am. And I think Theodore is, too."

"But maybe pretending is the only way to truly forget."

"Is it?"

Hannah smiled. "Does it matter?"

"Huh?"

"What matters is that you see the effort he's making for you, because he loves you."

Penelope was taken aback for a second, then nodded with a smile.

She was right. What was more important than the fact that he loved her?

After talking with Hannah, Penelope felt a sense of relief. On her way home, Theodore texted her that he had to work late and she shouldn't wait for him for dinner. He asked what she wanted to eat, and he would pick it up on his way home.

Penelope was craving oranges, the kind with green peels.

"I'll get them for you on my way home."

That evening, Penelope still had no appetite but managed to eat half a bowl of porridge.

As she was about to head upstairs to rest, she received a phone call.

She stepped out for a bit, and when she returned, her mind was made up.

It was nearly midnight when Theodore came home. After getting ready for bed, he carefully slid in behind her and tucked her in.

"Goodnight, my love," he whispered.

In truth, Penelope was still awake. She turned over and snuggled into his arms.

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