Shades Of Mr.billionaire - Chapter 302

If it wasn’t for the small problem of him being so sly and underhanded, he would be perfect.

We would be perfect now.

He remains crouched behind me, holding my hair back and offering me water now and then whilst I compose myself.

“I’m good,” I assure him as I wipe my mouth with a tissue.

As I know there’s no more to come up when I all feel empty from my stomach.

“Here,” He pulls me to my feet and settle’s my hair down my back.

“Do you want some more water?” He asks.

Then I take the glass from him and walk over to the sinks to wash my hands. Taking a sip, goggle up and spit to clean my mouth out, and as I look up into the mirror, I see Feng Teng is standing behind me.

He looks worried.

Then, I brush my cheeks and ruffle my hair.

“Babe. Let me take you home,” he says as he comes to stand closer.

“Feng Teng, I’m fine, seriously,” I assured him.

He reaches around me and strokes his hand down my cheek.

“Let me see you,” He plead.

I know he must feels useless, since I kept avoid from him since I walked out probably worsening it.

Can I be so mean and not letting him doing his duties as my husband?

“Nah. I’m okay.” I step back and pick my bag up from where I dumped it.

“No. You’re not, babe. I know I’m did wronged but, now please let me,” He beg.

“This is something hasn’t agreed with me, that’s all.” My hand is twitching by my side.

“For f**k sake! You’re at the f**king here in the clinic’s, so don’t tell me you’re fine!” He clutches at his hair and shouts as he swings his body away from me in frustration.

“I’m not pregnant.” I blurt quickly, but then suddenly contemplate the horrific thought of him not wanting me if he thinks that.

My heart constricts painfully in my chest. I feel sick again.

“What?” He’s quickly facing me, his eyes shocked, his body twitching as he really does want this badly.

So I fight my natural reflex, trying desperately to keep my hands by my side.

“Now I’ve had it confirmed, I am not!” I shout at him.

“Then why are you throwing up all over the place?” He counters.

“I have a gastric,” My excuse is feeble, but by the look on his face, which I’m definitely not mistaking as devastation, he believes me.

“So your planned failed because my period just came this morning.” I says firmly.

His eyes are flicking all over the bathroom, and he’s still twitching. He doesn’t know what to say. My fear is only strengthened by his reaction to my lied. So I’m confused, exhausted and utterly heartbroken.

It’s all very clear now.

“No,I’m not happy about this. I’m taking you home where I can keep an eye on you always,” He takes my hand, but I pull it away, bristling immediately at his comment.

He’s not happy? He wants to keep an eye on me?

What, to check if I’m on period?

“Yeah. You’re never happy with me.” I look him square in the eyes.

“Since, I’m always doing something to upset you. Have you thought that perhaps you would be less not happy without me around?” I ask him.

“That’s never happen!” He looks horrified

“Babe, I’m just worried, that’s all.” He says.

“Now don’t worry. I’m doing fine.” I snap, leaving the ladies in a complete haze.

I walk out from the Doctor’s room and straight into the pharmacy outside of the surgery and hand my prescription over the counter, then sit myself in a chair and watch as Feng Teng paces up and down outside with his hands shoved into his trouser pockets.

When I turning my body forward, I notice the pharmacist glancing up at me every now and again, and it’s then I realise he’s probably thinking that I eat my med here.

The temptation to explain myself nearly makes me stand and approach the counter, but he calls my name, and I’m approaching to take the paper bag from him.

“Thank you,” I smile before making my escape, but only to go and face my brooding husband outside.

“What’s that?” His eyes are fixed on the bag.

“New replacement for the safety med,” I hiss in his face.

“Now we are clear that I’m not pregnant so I want to stay that way,” I says.

His shoulders slump and his head drops. I’m battling consuming guilt at his reaction to my news, but I have to ignore it.

Sidestepping him, I start walking away, my legs a little shaky, my heart pounding relentlessly in my chest.

“So you’re not coming back to our home, aren’t you?” he calls after me.

I squeeze the bulge back in my throat and march on.

No, I’m not going home, but the plan was for just week so I can avoid being caught lying to him, then worry about the hospital when I get an appointment.

But his words carry an air of finality, and more worryingly, he’s not demanding that I stay with him.

If I’m don’t want the baby from my life, it’s becoming quite obvious that I don’t want him too.

That thought alone has my emotions taking hold.

A life without my love?

Then I walk against the breeze, my face wet with tears. Leaving him alone standing in front of the clinic.

The empty feeling was inevitable. The hollow, desolate, miserable feeling was inevitable.

But the overwhelming guilt that has swamped me was not so expected. I fought off twinges here and there, when he was in front of me, looking so defeated, but now I’m consumed by it. And I’m furious for feeling like this.

The lack of urgency to chase my scan appointment is also screwing with my mind.

It’s the fifth day now after the day, I met him. The continues week without him. My week has been a steady torture, and I know it’s never going to get better.

My heart is slowly splitting, each day widening the crack until I know I’ll probably to disfunctioning. So I’m close already.

What hurts the most is the lack of contact, leaving me wondering if he is drowning in alcohol, which also means he’s might probably his past playboy things. So I jump up from my desk and run to the toilets, throwing up immediately, but I don’t think this is morning sickness, or anytime of the day sickness.

This is grief.

“Wei Jie, you really should go home. You’ve not been right all week.” Er xi concerned voice comes through the cubicle door.

Then I heave myself up on a sigh and flush the chain before exiting to splash my face and wash my hands.

“This! Stupid bug hanging around.” I mutter.

So I glance at Er Xi and admire her new fashion style. She really has transformed, from the dowdy A-line skirts and high necked shirts are a distant memory. So I haven’t asked, but with this consistent new attire, I assume that her dating life is going smooth.

“Are you still seeing that guy?”I ask.

I should call to him by name, but I forgot to ask her about her guy name.

“Zi Lan?” She giggles.

“Yes, still,” She add.

“So it’s going well?” I turn and lean against the sink, watching as she starts brushing down her skirt, then proceeds to smooth her high ponytail.

“Yes! We are,” she squeals, making me jump.

“I think I’ve met my right guy,” She sequel.

I smile.

“What does he do?” I ask.

“Oh, some sort professional athlete but I don’t care must about his sport things,” She says.

I laugh.

“Good girl,” I was just about to say be yourself, but I think it’s a little too late for that.

She certainly isn’t the nerd Er Xi anymore.

Just then I hear my phone shouting from my brand new desk.

“Excuse me, dear,” I leave her in the mirror.

Approaching my new, hardwood desk, I ignore the deep seated disappointment because I’m not hearing my husband favourite song, but I can’t ignore my exasperation when I see the caller is Miss Yi Lan, my tiresome but infectiously enthusiastic client, whom I have spent way too much time on this week.

“Hello,” I greet.

“Hey, you still sound terrible Wei Lin,” She inform.

Yeah, I know, and I probably look terrible, too.

“Not really, now I’m feeling so much better than few days ago,” That’s because I’ve just emptied my stomach again.

“Oh okay then. Can we arrange a meeting?” She doesn’t sound so concerned for me, anymore.

“Is there a problem?” I ask, hoping to God there isn’t.

As I’m trying to keep this project as smooth as possible because even though Miss Yi seems pleasant enough, I predict a tricky customer if things don’t go her way.

“Nope. No problem. I just want to clarify a few details.” She says.

“We can do that over the phone now,” I prompt.

“No. I would prefer to see you.” she informs me.

Then I sag in my chair.

Of course she would. She always prefers to see me. Her final invoice is going to be astronomical. One hour here and two hours there.

She’ll have spent more money on my time than on the actual works.

“Can today?” she adds.

So I sag further on an audible groan as I don’t want ending my shitty week with the client at all. I practically started it with her on Monday, and I’ve had a mid-week interlude on Wednesday.

Anyway, it’s three in the afternoon.

Does she think she’s my only client?

So I wouldn’t mind, but she spends ten minutes clarifying what has already been clarified, then the next hour feeding me endless cups of tea and trying to convince me to join her for drinks.