Leaving You Bereft (Willow and Julian) novel Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Willow figured that something had to be the matter about Julian. He must have just gotten dumped.

However, he was going to be her ex–husband very soon, and she didn’t think she had the right to ask about his private matters

anymore. She had some self–awareness, after all.

Since Willow wasn’t able to shoo him out of her apartment, naturally, she didn’t want to continue sitting around watching him

smoke either. She just pulled her still–damp hair behind her head, twisted it up, and secured it in place with a hair claw before

going into the kitchen to make herself some food.

Willow wasn’t a bad cook. It was just that she seldom had the chance to cook after she married Julian. But now that she was living

on her own, she had to settle her three meals all by herself.

A short while later, the heavenly aroma of pasta bolognese came wafting out from the kitchen.

Julian was still sitting dazedly on the couch. From his position, he could see Willow’s back turn to him as she cooked at the stove.

She was still wearing that black men’s shirt with nothing underneath, exactly like a seductress.

Yet, because her head was leaning forward as she chopped up some onions, she gave off the illusion of a perfect wife instead.

Suddenly, it dawned on Julian that this must have been what people meant when they said “housewife“.

He also thought that many men must be dreaming of Willow in her current condition. Yet, at that thought, Julian frowned slightly

as he extinguished the cigarette and started wandering around the apartment.

The apartment wasn’t a huge one, but it had everything she needed. She’d even managed to turn a small room into a painting

studio.

Julian pulled away the cloth covering the canvas on the easel and saw the unfinished painting underneath it. She was painting the

skies of the galaxy this time–it was no longer Julian. In the past, Willow used to love painting portraits of him.

He gently touched the brush strokes on the canvas, feeling a little bitter inside.

A short while later, he sneaked into the cramped kitchen and circled his arms around Willow’s waist. They had never experienced

such warmth or intimacy when they were married.

Julian’s thin lips were pressed against the back of Willow’s neck. His voice was scratchy as he said, “Is this the life you’ve always

dreamed of? Living in an apartment smaller than 1500 square feet, eating regular food, and turning yourself into another

housewife?”

Willow didn’t fight him. They’d been married for four years after all, and she was used to having sex with him. She was just going

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