The CEO’S Orphan Wife

Other woman



Due to Ivan’s condition, my father-in-law sent Maureen back home and advised her not to come here, as it would only worsen the situation. He mentioned that Ivan already had a wife, so she needed to distance herself from my husband.

I was genuinely taken aback when she returned to the country. When Ivan and I got married, she was extremely upset and confronted me, pulling my hair forcefully.

“You’re a promiscuous person! A snake!” she repeatedly yelled in my face while I could do nothing but cry. Ivan embraced her and offered numerous apologies.This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

They left the house, and Ivan returned home late at night. I had no idea what they did or what they discussed, but I had a fear in my heart that their relationship might persist even though we were already married. Especially since I knew we were only married on paper. All I had was a legal document, not his heart.

A week after that incident, I received news that Maureen had flown to America with her family. Ivan had never visited that country, so, in some way, I felt relieved.

However, even in Maureen’s absence, his coldness towards me persisted. He rarely wanted to talk to me and refused to eat the dishes I prepared, yet I continued to serve him.

Despite having a regular job, I woke up early to prepare his breakfast and lay out the clothes he would wear to the office.

But my efforts still fell short because his heart remained closed, and he had no intention of opening it to let me in.

Now that Maureen has returned, I might lose my place in his life. This is what my husband used to repeatedly tell me, that he would leave me after a year, and his parents couldn’t do anything to change his mind, telling me that enduring a year with me was enough.

“Come inside,” my mother-in-law invited me.

“I think it would be best to make the most of him not remembering anything. Take care of him as you’ve been doing. This way, he might eventually fall in love with you.”

I had my doubts about what my mother-in-law said because now that he had no memories, he openly expressed his love for Maureen.

My mom entered Ivan’s room first, and I followed. Ivan was still awake. When I walked in, he focused all his attention on me.

He gazed at me, leading me to believe that he truly couldn’t remember me, as he never once looked at me closely for an extended period. It was as if he found me repulsive back then.

I forced a smile.

“Hi, h-how are you feeling?” I asked in a trembling voice.

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Can he eat now?” I asked my mother-in-law, who was silently observing us from the corner.

She smiled and nodded.

“Do you want some rice porridge?” I asked Ivan in a slow tone.

He was quiet, but his eyes remained focused on me. I couldn’t help but feel nervous because I wasn’t used to him looking at me. I was accustomed to the disdainful glances he used to throw at me, especially when I was being dramatic like this.

Despite his lack of response, I proceeded to prepare food for him, grabbing a bowl and spoon from the table in the corner and retrieving the thermos food jar with porridge inside, which I had brought earlier.

I added shredded chicken to it and approached him slowly. Because of my nervousness, my hands were trembling. I sat on the side of his bed, drawing closer to him as if it were normal for us to be this close because we were a married couple. He couldn’t remember anything, so I seized that opportunity, just as his mom had suggested.

I mixed the porridge, which was still steaming. Taking a spoonful, I took it to his mouth, but he didn’t open it. Even though he couldn’t remember, he certainly wouldn’t let me serve him.

“It’s still hot,” he remarked.

“Blow on it.” His request took aback me. Blow on it? Was he sure? My breathing near him used to annoy him, so why did he want me to blow on his food? It seemed like his amnesia might have its advantages. I might even enjoy this.

I followed his instructions and blew on the porridge. After it had cooled down a bit, I fed it to him.

“Did you cook this?” he inquired after swallowing.

“Y-yes. Did you like it?”

He nodded in response. I added more to his spoon, and he relished a hearty meal, finishing the food I had prepared for him.

After taking some water and taking his medication, he lay down once more. He continued to experience bodily discomfort, and the bruises on his sides, arms, and legs maintained their purplish hue, making it challenging for him to move. I provided help.

Around eight o’clock, his parents bid farewell and left the ward. They mentioned they would return early tomorrow so I could head home and get some rest.

Ivan was sound asleep. Meanwhile, I sat on the large sofa, considering taking a short nap in case drowsiness set in. As the clock struck ten, I began to feel a wave of sleepiness washing over me. Ivan was resting peacefully, so I decided to join him for a brief nap.

I remained unsure about the number of minutes or hours that had passed when I suddenly heard faint whispers engaged in conversation. I cautiously opened my eyes but promptly closed them when I discerned the voices more clearly.

It was Maureen! Maureen had returned to the hospital and was now conversing with Ivan.

“I miss you so much, Ivan,” Maureen said, her voice tinged with tears.

“I miss you too,” my husband replied.

“I came back just as we discussed before. I returned after a year.”

Given the way Ivan was conversing with Maureen, I couldn’t be certain if he truly had amnesia.

“I’m confused, Maureen. I know I love you, but why did I marry her?”

I froze upon hearing Ivan’s words. I couldn’t bear to listen to Maureen’s response, so I pretended I was about to wake up, although I had been awake for a while, eavesdropping on their conversation.

“I think she might be waking up. I need to leave before she informs your parents. I love you, Ivan.”

I heard Maureen’s footsteps as she made her way to the door.

She had been gone for a few minutes, yet I kept my eyes closed, not wanting Ivan to realize that I was awake and not wanting him to see the sadness in my eyes.


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