Filed to story: My Husband Regrets Divorcing Me (Audrey & Cornell)
He responded indifferently, “I apologize for that, but you really shouldn’t degrade yourself.”
Hearing this, Doreen’s expression shifted, and she quickly asked, “What do you mean?”
In a burst of frustration, Doreen let the words slip. The charade was wearing on her, yet beneath it all, she still cared deeply for Roscoe. The thought of him wanting to end their engagement filled her with dread.
Roscoe’s voice was measured as he spoke. “If you believe I’m unworthy, don’t settle. Maybe you should find someone who meets your standards.”
“How dare you!” The words escaped Doreen before she could catch them.
Roscoe’s suggestion that she look elsewhere ignited a fury in her, rendering her momentarily speechless.
“Oh, this really hurts…” Doreen whispered, clumsily trying to steer away from the tense subject. Publicly switching grooms after announcing the wedding date would be a scandal, not to mention humiliating.
Plus, her heart was set on Roscoe. If only he could show her a little more tenderness, her anger might have been quelled. A slight compromise on his part could smooth everything over. But his aloofness persisted.
With a calm detachment, Roscoe stated, “Perhaps it’s time to reconsider our engagement.”
Doreen was startled. She hadn’t expected him to continue discussing breaking up. Wasn’t this the moment for him to offer reassurances?
“Roscoe, it wasn’t always Like this between us. You used to love me deeply. Doreen’s voice broke as she feigned vulnerability, reminiscing about a past that had never been.”
Their entire relationship was a fabrication, a plot devised by others to ensnare Roscoe.
Doreen had once confided her concerns to Jarrod, who had cryptically promised that things would improve. She was skeptical until Roscoe’s father approached her with a proposition that she could marry Roscoe if she followed his guidelines in dealing with Roscoe.
As Roscoe regained consciousness, vulnerable with some memory loss, Doreen played the part of the caring fianc?e. She concocted elaborate stories of their supposed past love, stories he accepted as truth due to his amnesia.
Yet, Roscoe always seemed detached toward Doreen. His demeanor around her was often cold.
Despite this, Doreen persisted, believing that his coldness was a small price to pay for being with him. After all, she considered him hers.
Now, Doreen resumed her manipulations, weaving more tales. “Roscoe, why are you so harsh with me? You used to speak so kindly and loved me dearly. How could you be so cruel now?” she pleaded.
Roscoe only scoffed quietly to himself. Whether before or after his amnesia, he knew he couldn’t Love someone so adept at deceit. He had attempted to fulfill the roles of boyfriend and fianc?, but it was futile. He didn’t just dislike Doreen.
He was repelled by her pretense and how she belittled others, treating service staff terribly. Roscoe found all of it repugnant. His doubts deepened.
“Doreen, you keep claiming I love you, but I don’t feel that way. I can’t see myself ever loving someone like you,” Roscoe confessed, determined to speak the truth. Compatibility was clearly lacking.
“I’ll discuss this with my family. I hope you’ll do the same. We’re simply not right for each other,” Roscoe stated decisively.
Doreen expected comfort, but instead, Roscoe delivered a devastating blow.
Roscoe turned to leave after speaking.
Stepping forward, Doreen yelled, “Roscoe, let me tell you something! Miguel will kill you if we don’t marry!”
Unmoved, Roscoe continued walking away.
“Roscoe!” she cried out, her anger boiling over as she watched him walk away.
In a fit of rage, she hurled her purse at him, striking his back.
Roscoe momentarily paused when hit but then resumed his departure without looking back.
Doreen, left alone, stamped her feet in frustration. After calming herself, she retrieved her bag, pulled out her phone, and dialed Miguel.
“Miguel… Roscoe is being unfair… He’s talking about calling off the wedding…” Doreen sobbed into the phone.
Miguel spent a long time trying to soothe her. Eventually, Doreen’s tears subsided. “Okay, Miguel, I was just upset for a moment. Please do not be too hard on Roscoe. We’re still getting married, after all.”
Miguel reassured her warmly, “You’re so understanding. Don’t worry. The wedding date is set. You will be my daughter-in-law, and that’s final.”
Miguel’s indulgence in Doreen was not solely due to his agreement with Jarrod. He was more interested in the strategic benefits of uniting the Schultz and Watts families. This alliance was too important to risk any disruptions.
Meanwhile, Roscoe’s phone buzzed as he settled into his car. The caller ID made him scowl, and he quickly turned off the device.
As he rounded the corner, he noticed Nicole standing by the corner, holding a bag and apparently waiting for a ride.
Roscoe initially planned to drive straight past. As an engaged man, he knew it was prudent not to engage with other women until he had resolved his current predicament with Doreen.
However, the sight of Nicole leaning against a pillar, her figure slender and her eyes reflecting a depth of loneliness, compelled him to stop. He rolled down the window and asked, “Miss Lawrence, where are you off to?”
Nicole, caught off guard by his presence in the waiting area, hesitated before responding, “Home.”
She offered no further details. Nicole anticipated Roscoe would drive away following their brief exchange, but instead, he offered, “Well, let me give you a ride, Miss Lawrence.”
Nicole declined with a shake of her head. “There’s no need. I had already booked a taxi.”
Roscoe glanced over at the congested streets visible on the screen.
“Traffic’s a mess right now. It could be a while before your ride gets here.”
The hospital’s location near several schools meant that rush hour was particularly chaotic.
Nicole quickly checked her phone. As expected, the traffic app displayed a swath of red, and her ride was still over twenty minutes away. She needed to be at Kingbel Club by 6:30 p.m. and Vicki had been clear. Being late was not an option.
Behind them, a car honked impatiently. Despite this, Roscoe didn’t move.
Feeling the pressure of time and the awkwardness of the situation, Nicole expressed her gratitude, opened the car door, and got into the backseat. Roscoe drove off as soon as she settled in.
“Where should I drop you?” Roscoe asked once they were clear of the hospital area.
Nicole gave him the Kingbel Club’s address.
Roscoe acknowledged with a nod and kept his eyes on the road, respecting her privacy with his usual quiet demeanor.
They rode in silence, the only sound the hum of the engine. The quiet was palpable as they reached the Kingbel Club.
Nicole got out and turned to him. “Thanks for the lift, Mr. Watts.”
“Anytime, Roscoe replied, his tone courteous but distant.”
As he watched her head toward the entrance, curiosity overcame Roscoe.
He called out, “Miss Lawrence, just curious, what’s your business at the club tonight?”
Seeing Nicole’s stunned expression, Roscoe clarified, “You’re not in a condition to drink right now, and you need to be cautious in your business dealings.”
Nicole realized that Roscoe had misunderstood her intentions. He thought she was here for business. She shook her head and said frankly, “I’m not here to discuss business. I’m here to work.”
Roscoe remained quiet for a moment.
Thinking he had nothing more to say, Nicole thanked him again and was about to leave.
“Miss Lawrence.” Roscoe halted her once more. Once Nicole came to a stop, he whispered, “Are you having money problems?”
Nicole shook her head and said, “No, I chose to work here myself. Thank you, Mr. Watts.
Then, she turned and walked inside. She knew her words might leave Roscoe with a poor impression of her.
Since he had forgotten about her and their shared past, his opinion of her didn’t matter that much. If he stayed out of her affairs, he would have a better life.
Nicole did it intentionally to make Roscoe misunderstand her. It was better for him to not remember her all the time. This was the last kindness she could offer him.
Watching Nicole’s retreating figure, Roscoe was silent.
He couldn’t fathom why she would work here. It didn’t seem like a place for someone like Nicole. Yet, he didn’t know Nicole’s reasons for being here and thought it wise not to make assumptions.
His eyes trailed her slender figure. She was so thin. But she stood tall and determined, seeming unbeatable.
Roscoe’s expression grew somber. It seemed that each time he saw her, the void in his heart felt a little less empty. He couldn’t understand why, nor could he shake off the feeling.
Roscoe watched her enter through the gilded door before he started his car and drove away.
After Nicole walked in, the receptionist asked about who she was looking for.
The receptionist recognized Nicole when she introduced herself, and then made a quick phone call. Shortly after, an older woman, known as Jemma, emerged to greet Nicole. “Are you Nicole Lawrence?” she asked.
Nicole nodded.
With a cigarette hanging from her lips, Jemma sized Nicole up and instructed, “Come with me.”
Jemma led Nicole to what seemed like a dressing room and then instructed someone to apply makeup to Nicole.
After getting Nicole’s makeup done, Jemma had someone fetch her different clothes. When Nicole saw the revealing garments, she blushed and hesitantly asked, “Can I not wear this?”
The outfit was hardly a dress. It was just a few scraps of cloth stitched together, barely covering anything.
Jemma sneered, “You’re here to work, not to shop. Put on what you’re told!”