Billionaire, I Am Not Your Wife! novel Chapter 27

Chapter 25: Haunted By The Little Things

Logan’s POV

I reached for another jacket, wanting to see more of this. How had I never noticed this before? They didn’t look new, which meant I hadn’t been observing things for a while.

That thought did not sit well with me, I read her other note: “Wool-cashmere blend. Can be worn business casual with dark jeans. Great for client dinners. Match with the burgundy pocket square for extra polish.” Another doodle, this time a little heart.

Every single item in my closet had been labeled like this. Shirts, pants, ties, even my belts. Each one noting fabric type, washing instructions, appropriate occasions, styling suggestions. All these labels must have taken hours for her to do, seated by the window, going through them one by one, and I hadn’t even noticed they existed.

I found myself pulling out piece after piece, reading the labels, looking at the little doodles Sedona had added. Some were funny-a tie labeled “Power tie. Makes you look 10% more intimidating. Use wisely” with a drawing of a tiny dragon.

Some were practical-“This shirt runs small after washing. Size up when replacing.” Some were sweet

“You wore this on our first anniversary. You looked so handsome. Love, S.”

I felt something tighten in my chest, an uncomfortable mixture of guilt and… something else that seemed to be hurting me the more I focused on it. Something didn’t want to examine too closely.

This was the kind of thing Sedona did. She was the type of person to do these kind of quiet, invisible labor that made my life run smoothly without me ever having to think about it.

I’d taken it for granted, assumed it was just what wives did for their husbands and wasn’t a big deal, never considering the time and thought and care that went into it.

I grabbed the suit she’d recommended for formal meetings and got dressed, trying not to look at the label that read “You’ve got this! You’re going to be amazing today!” with a little star drawn beside it.

Stop being sentimental, I told myself firmly. This doesn’t change anything. She still left. She still abandoned Nick. A few cute labels don’t make up for that. It didn’t mean anything, rather it showed that she did not have anything worthwhile to do with her time, unlike Catherine who was being scouted by international scouts daily.

But despite what I fed myself as excuses the labels stayed in my mind all through breakfast, all through the nanny’s arrival, all through my rushed explanation of Nick’s symptoms and where to find the medicine and-

“Mr. Hayes,” she interrupted gently. “I know where everything is. Mrs. Hayes showed me months ago, in case of emergency. She was very thorough.”

Of course she was. Of course Sedona had thought of this, had prepared for every contingency, had made sure Nick would be taken care of even if she couldn’t be there.

The meeting with the Singapore investors ran long, lasting until nearly three o’clock. By the time I got home, I was exhausted and irritable, my head pounding from lack of coffee and too much negotiation.

I found Nick in his room, still looking pale but no longer actively sick. He was sitting on his bed, struggling with his school shoes.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “You’re not going to school today. You’re sick.”

“I feel better now. And I don’t want to miss art class.” He tugged harder at the shoe, his face scrunching in discomfort as he hissed.

“But these hurt my feet.”

“They’re new shoes. They need to break in.”

Such a small victory. But to me in this moment it felt significant. I had finally gotten a glimpse into all the invisible work Sedona had done, all the small ways she’d made our lives easier without any recognition of appreciation.

How many other things like this were there? How many tiny tasks, small considerations, that I never noticed yet assumed it was there all along.

I was still thinking about it that evening when I got dressed for the charity gala I was supposed to attend.

It was one of those mandatory social events, the kind where there was need to attend and it was a means to chat with some kind of people to get a business deal you needed, more than it was about the charity it was initially organized for.

I’d committed to attending months ago, back when I’d assumed Sedona would be by my side.

She hated these events, complaining, saying that she found them exhausting and pretentious, that she hated being surrounded by fake people, who wouldn’t bat an eye if the charity wasn’t being televised and hence made them look good while doing it–but she always came anyway, always played the role of supportive wife with grace and charm.

Catherine had agreed to come as my plus-one when Sedona left.

It was perfectly innocent-just friends attending a work function together. But as I adjusted my tie in the mirror, I felt uneasy about it in a way I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

The gala was being held at the Four. Catherine looked beautiful in a floor-length emerald dress, her wrist brace the only thing that looked odd on her otherwise perfect appearance.

“You look handsome,” she said when she met me in the lobby. “Sedona has good taste in suits.”

The comment made me uncomfortable, though I couldn’t say why. “Thanks.”