Dangerous Love: You Are My One and Only Bride novel Chapter 1525

Robin patted his back gently. “Shh, hey. I can assure you, I’m fine. I can’t find it in me to fight her because I know why she acts this way. She blames me for sabotaging the chance of you getting with her stepdaughter, and now, I guess she thinks I ruined her marriage. Of course, it was well within your choice and no fault of ours,” she comforted. “All I know is that I married you, and I’ll gladly live the rest of my life with you. I don’t care about what other people think; their opinions are trivial. But I think that’s enough for a day, agreed? Have a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow is a fresh, new start. I’ll come over and keep you company for the weekend. How’s that sound?”

Sylvain tightened his embrace, not letting go. “But I don’t want you to go. Please… stay with me, Robin. We want a kid of our own, don’t we? If you’re pregnant, maybe your mom will stop making you live with them, and maybe… I… Sigh. I just want us to live together, you know? A life of two. I don’t wanna be alone anymore. And I definitely don’t want to be with my mom; she’s gonna do a number on my sanity, I can feel it!”

Watching him in such abject dismay made Robin’s heart ache. “Silly Sylvain. A woman can’t just get pregnant just because she fancies it, you know. We need to start slow and plan for it. I… I know you must be in a terrible dump now, but… she’s your mother. What else is there left for us to do?”

Sylvain drove Robin home after that, but he did not return to the villa straight away. Neither did he accept Ursula’s call—he was just too mentally-taxed to care about anything. Ursula was going to make herself comfortable in a hotel somewhere, he reasoned. She must have enough money to take care of herself, from food to accommodation to the basic things in life.

He dared not allow his heart to soften, not even once. “Once” was all Ursula needed for repeated offenses, and then everyone could kiss their peaceful lives goodbye.

He spent contemplative hours in his car until it was midnight. He drove home—and to his shock, he found Ursula Siebeech waiting for him once again at the gate. She bore the look of a woman who vowed to live by Sylvain for the rest of her life.

He ignored her and opened the door. She followed in, tears welling in her eyes.

“So this is it, huh? You find no stab of conscience in turning your back against your mother for the sake of some woman. Fine! I’ll shut up and not say a word about her anymore, okay? You happy with that? But before you go celebrating this, know that I’m never gonna treat her kindly either,” she proclaimed. “You are married. That means nothing I say matters anymore, does it? But it’s fine. All of this, I can accept. But poor, deary me. Never would I have thought my son would be a man who treasures a mere outsider more than his dear biological mother.”

Passive-aggressivity stung like a knife. It was artistry that hinged on feigning humility and relent, just so one could up the ante and aggravate their attacks. It hurt.

So, Sylvain snickered. “You nailed it. You mean less to me than she does. To me, you’re the outsider.”