Page 39 of I Replaced His Husband
And John’s sour face? That probably meant they thought I hadn’t loved Maurice enough if I could jump into bed with someone else so soon.
The Sanderses were always formal (if not hostile) with me. I never really felt their support, especially after my own parents died. That was when I could’ve used some warmth, maybe a little fatherly guidance, but they didn’t step up.
They were wary of my looks, too. Back in college, there were a few times when some frat boys or drunk party guys tried to push things too far, and Maurice had to step in. The Sanderses didn’t hide their concerns. "Too much beauty, too much trouble," they used to say. To them, my looks were a literal threat to their son’s safety.
One time during sophomore year, things got really bad. We were cornered after a party, and Maurice ended up in the hospital after fighting off three alphas. Danny didn’t hold back his frustration. He made me feel like it was my fault for even going. "Great idea, huh? Going where there are dozens of drunk alphas? You should know by now how your looks provoke them."
Things only got worse when I tried modeling. They shot it down right away: too dangerous! According to them, young omega models were always getting accosted, stalked, or abused. And the whole job required diets, intense training, constant travel, and had a short shelf life. John once said, "If you want to get harassed by horny photographers, that’s the way to go."
It stung, even though part of me agreed. I wasn’t blind. I knew how the industry worked, but it still felt personal.
Whenever they looked at my photos—photos I was so proud of, they didn’t offer a single compliment. Their expressions twisted, almost like they were disgusted. When I started getting real contracts, walking runways for big names, they pulled Maurice aside and said, "If Kay makes it in that world, he’s gonna turn you into a cuckold."
That pressure definitely got to him. Maurice never told me to stop, but his excitement for my success faded. He grew tense and quiet. He started spending all his free time on martial arts, tagging along on shoots, shadowing me. He gave up the hotel work he used to do for his parents, and his mood shifted. He never said anything, never blamed me. But deep down, I knew it was all too much for him, eating him up inside. All the attention I got was intense, and he took his bodyguard job super seriously… When I noticed that he started vaping some relaxants to fight the stress, I decided to end his misery. I cared more about him than about fame or the fleeting glare of the spotlight.
So, I quit, but I felt so let down. Especially after overhearing Maurice’s parents saying to him that I did modeling out of ‘just vanity’, and that I should be aiming for more noble values, not purely physical ones.
I cried, and told him afterward that maybe they should take a look at their own values first, starting with respecting my choices and offering even a sliver of emotional support. But they just weren’t the kind of people who would agree with what I wanted.
My choices…
Yeah, inviting Rain was definitely another one of those ‘bad’ decisions in their eyes. Just one more item on their list of reasons to criticize me.
Maybe I was overthinking it. Some of their concerns were valid. But I was in a dark headspace, too clouded to look at it all with any kind of perspective.
When Rain walked into the guest room, the air shifted. I couldn’t deny feeling relieved when he stepped up and made his presence known. It threw them off balance.
Eventually, they even offered a weak version of support, a forced kind of acceptance.
Still, I was grateful. Rain brought a whole different energy into the room and tilted the scales.
His low, growly back-and-forth with John gave me this soft sense of satisfaction. John, with his intense alpha presence and his hotel empire, was always quick to judge. Harsh and final. But Rain pushed back!
It felt… good.
Was it really his place to do that? No. Rain wasn’t family. And yeah, maybe I should’ve been annoyed by his interference, but I wasn’t. I was too practical for that. All that mattered to me was the outcome. Thanks to Rain, the Sanderses left.
I heard a knock. It was him.
Rain.
Today, for the first time, I thought of him by that name. I don’t know why. Maybe it was just easier that way. He’d made himself known, stepped out of anonymity.
He came in carrying a tray.
The look he gave me always triggered this strange mix of embarrassment and irritation. It was the kind of look you’d give something beautiful but broken, full of melancholy, softness, sadness. And I didn’t want him to look at me like that. I didn’t want him to look at me at all. And if he had to, I wanted him to pretend I was just a job. Something basic and emotionless. I didn’t want tenderness. It got in the way of Maurice’s memory.
The food he brought… I couldn’t deny it, it looked great. Rain could really cook. Maurice couldn’t, and I never liked cooking. We always ordered in, which got old, so this was a nice change.
"I made this for you. Spinach salad with olives, tomatoes, boiled eggs, and… hot bacon. Hope you like it."
I ignored his smile and just nodded. I didn’t have it in me to say anything else. Speaking felt like giving him power, and I just wanted to be left alone.
While I ate, he sat in the armchair in the corner, watching me with that same look, full of sympathy and low-key sadness. It got under my skin. The way his presence filled the room was overwhelming, like I could feel his energy, even read his thoughts or at least his emotions. That strange mental pressure, that sense of him being inside my space, was driving me up the wall.
When I finished (and it really was delicious), he stood up to grab the tray. I hoped he’d leave, but he hesitated, then suddenly sat down next to me, his body sinking into the mattress.
"Kay, how’re you feeling? I could tell that visit rattled you."
