Page 141 of The Humiliated Wife

---

This wasrespect.

She curled her knees to her chest, arms full of his notes, her heart aching in the most unexpected, radiant way.

She felt safe in her love for him.

And all at once she knew, with quiet certainty, that everything—everything—was going to be okay.

Fiona sat on the bed,knees tucked up, the city quiet outside her windows. The phone felt warm in her hand. Familiar, but heavy tonight.

There were no drafts. No rehearsals. Just her, and the words waiting in her chest.

She opened the app. Tapped her profile. @missfionasays. Still hers. Still soft, still earnest—stillher.

And she typed:

I want him to be mine again.

I want to be his.

She stared at the screen. Two lines. Embarrassing, maybe. But not shameful. Not when it came from her. Not when it was posted onherterms.

Let them laugh if they wanted to. The trendy crowd, the clever people who thought sincerity was naïve.

She was done hiding.

She hit "Share."

The post blinked into place, neat and quiet.

Fiona set her phone down on the windowsill, screen glowing in the dark.

Dean wouldn’t see it tonight. But maybe he’d see it in the morning.

She wondered what he’d feel when he did. If he’d know that her heart—finally, fully—was again his.

And what he would do about it.

The banging startled her awake.

Fiona sat up too fast, heart pounding, the blanket tangled around her legs. It was still dark—barely morning. The city outside was hushed, breathless. And someone was at her door.

No—inher apartment.

Her hallway light flicked on as she stumbled toward it, adrenaline and confusion crashing through her sleep-heavy body.

Dean.

He was there. In the hallway. Chest rising hard, shirt clinging to his back, keys still dangling from the doorknob.

He looked wild—completely, beautifully wild. Hair unkempt, eyes bright with something dangerous and bright.

And then he saw her.

“Fiona,” he breathed, like a prayer and a vow in one.

She didn’t even have time to respond before he was there, in front of her, close enough to touch.

His hands cupped her face. Warm. Steady. Desperate.

---