Novel Full Chapter 1081 Stamp
Chapter 1081: Chapter 1081 Stamp
Ross looked up at her. For just a moment—just half a heartbeat—there was something unreadable in his eyes. But then he smiled, gentle and composed, like he always did.
"I see. It’s fine," he replied easily. "All good things have to end eventually."
He leaned back in his chair, relaxed, unaffected, as though her words had no emotional weight.
As though losing her presence didn’t change anything.
"I guess I’ll be alone reading here on Wednesdays again. Doesn’t matter. I’m used to it anyway," he added with a small shrug.
His tone was so casual, so natural, that it almost hurt. Marissa expected... sadness, disappointment, something that showed she mattered.
But Ross simply moved on.
"So, what do you think about this book?" he asked, smoothly shifting the topic. "I feel that the author is trying to highlight how..."
And he talked—just like before. Calm. Steady. Unbothered.
Marissa answered automatically.
She nodded, she smiled, she contributed to the conversation, but her chest felt tight the entire time.
When the conversation ended and she grabbed her purse, an unexpected heaviness crushed her heart.
She stepped out of the library, and the moment the doors shut behind her, the ache grew sharper.
Why... why does this hurt so much?
She sat in her car, staring at the steering wheel, her vision blurring for a moment.
"Why am I sad...?" she whispered, unable to understand the emptiness spreading inside her.
One more month passed.
And instead of fading, the sadness only grew stronger—thicker, heavier, more consuming.
She woke up every morning feeling tired, as if something inside her had been scooped out.
She found herself staring at her reflection and seeing someone who looked... dull. Dim. Lost.
She didn’t enjoy her hobbies anymore—gardening, reading, cooking.
Even her favorite songs felt muted.
The smallest joys no longer touched her.
It was like her heart had been slowly drained.
At home, things grew worse.
Her husband, once affectionate and warm, suddenly couldn’t get it up anymore. His cock became limp.
He grew withdrawn, embarrassed, frustrated—and Marissa was left feeling even more abandoned.
Even when he held her at night, she felt no warmth, no connection, no spark.
The bed felt colder with each passing week.
She missed the feeling of being wanted.
She missed the feeling of being seen.
And every Wednesday became a private battlefield.
She would sit on her couch, staring at the clock, knowing that Ross was probably sitting in the same library corner at that exact moment... reading alone... not waiting for her, because he never waited for anyone.
Yet her heart ached.
Her chest tightened.
Her mind wandered back to his smile, his voice, the soft confidence he carried.
She missed him.
Deeply.
Painfully.
More than she had ever expected.
And the more she tried to bury her feelings, the more they grew—spreading inside her like a slow-burning fire she could no longer contain.
By the end of the month, Marissa wasn’t just sad.
She was miserable.
Loneliness pressed against her from all sides—home, marriage, her empty Wednesdays, her unfulfilled desires.
She felt trapped between guilt and longing, between duty and something far more dangerous.
She tried to scold herself, tried to shut down her imagination, but her body refused to listen.
Her dreams were filled with Ross. Her waking hours were haunted by him.
Even small things—a scent, a voice, a book—reminded her of him.
And though she fought it with everything she had...
She was breaking.
Quietly, slowly, heartbreakingly.
And she didn’t know how much longer she could endure it.
Marissa lasted only a few more days before she finally broke.
"I can’t live like this. Not anymore," she whispered to herself, a tremor of desperation—and something dangerously thrilling—running through her voice.
She had spent years bending herself into the mold of the perfect wife, the devoted mother, the woman who put everyone else’s happiness above her own.
She had smiled, she had sacrificed, she had endured.
But it had been slowly killing her—her heart ached, her mind felt heavy, her body restless and yearning for something she had long denied.
Now, she decided, it was time. Time to face the truth. Time to listen to her own heart, her own body.
Time to finally grant herself a fragment of the happiness she had always deferred.
She dressed deliberately, each choice an expression of the resolve burning inside her.
A pencil skirt that hugged her hips, accentuating the hourglass curves she still carried effortlessly.
A blouse, soft and silk-like, cut in just the right way to hint at the swell of her breasts and the dip of her waist.
High heels that added elegance and length to her toned legs.
She didn’t even bother with makeup. It was unnecessary.
At forty-plus, she still radiated a natural beauty that could rival women half her age.
Her skin was smooth, her eyes bright, her smile warm—but now, tinged with a sharp edge of desire.
Her figure, wide hips and all, declared her unmistakably a woman who had lived, loved, and grown into her own power.
A hot mama, undeniably so, confident, radiant, dangerous.
And yet, none of this compared to the pull Ross had on her.
He had never said anything overtly seductive. Never whispered a single dirty word.
Never tried to charm her with lines or attention. He simply existed.
Handsome, confident, magnetic in a way that made it impossible for her to resist.
Somehow, effortlessly, he had wormed his way into her thoughts, her dreams, her waking hours.
And she had fallen. Completely. Madly. Without realizing it until it was far too late to ignore.
The library was quiet when she entered, the bright lights pouring through the tall windows, scattering golden light across the shelves.
Dust motes danced lazily in the air, and the smell of old paper and polished wood filled her senses.
Her pulse quickened, her breath catching, as she saw him sitting in the same corner she had been drawn to every Wednesday.
Her heart beat faster the moment she saw his handsome face.