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💔 My husband refused to drive me home, but he'd driven another woman home 227 times. I found her address saved as a frequent destination in his car. Some trips ended after midnight. 👉 Then I found the one dated on our wedding anniversary. My husband hated giving people rides. After twelve hours at the hospital, he said he didn't have the energy to drive anywhere. Then I found out he had driven another woman home 227 times. I stared at the unfamiliar address on the navigation screen. For one second, I told myself it was nothing. Maybe a restaurant nearby. Maybe a mistake. Then I saw the words beneath it. CLAIRE BENNETT — HOME. Beneath it were two words. Frequent destination. My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. I knew Claire. She was a doctor at Daniel's hospital. They worked the same shifts. At a staff dinner last year, someone had laughed and said Claire probably saw my husband more than I did. Daniel had laughed. "That's what happens when you work together." I had laughed with everyone else. Now her apartment was saved in his car like it belonged there. I had only borrowed Daniel's car because mine was being repaired. That morning, he had caught a ride to work and left me his keys. He had reminded me to adjust the mirrors. Nothing about handing me this car had worried him. Maybe I had misunderstood. I tapped the screen. The navigation opened a list of completed trips. Yesterday, 10:48 p.m. Tuesday, 11:17 p.m. Monday, 9:56 p.m. I scrolled farther. Her address appeared the week before. Then the week before that. Some trips ended after midnight. I filtered the history by destination. A number appeared at the top. 227 trips. I stared at it. Then I checked the date range. The first trip was less than a year ago. Daniel had driven to Claire's apartment 227 times. My husband hated giving people rides. That was what he had told me. Last November, I worked late during a storm. The buses stopped running normally, and two drivers canceled on me. The hospital was fifteen minutes away. I called him. He answered after three rings. "Maya, I'm exhausted. I spend enough time driving for work. Can you please just get an Uber?" I had apologized for asking. Forty minutes later, I climbed into a stranger's car with water inside my shoes. When I got home, I took them off at the door and dried my hair downstairs so I wouldn't wake Daniel. The next morning, I asked if he had slept well. After that night, I stopped asking him for rides. I carried an umbrella. I paid whatever the app charged. I told myself love meant understanding when someone was tired. Now 227 completed trips sat in front of me. Some ended after midnight. Several took him farther from home than my office ever had. But Daniel was never too tired. He was only too tired for me. I picked up my phone. There could be an excuse for one trip. There could not be an excuse for 227. My fingers had gone cold, but I photographed the screen. Then I exported the full history and opened the file to make sure every date had transferred. Daniel called before I saved the second copy. "Did you get the car started?" "Yes."I looked through the windshield at our closed garage door."Do you ever drive people from the hospital home?" He gave a tired sigh. "Maybe once or twice if someone's stranded. But you know I hate being everyone's driver." Once or twice. I looked at 227. "Of course," I said. "I have rounds. Call me if the car acts up." He hung up. I saved the file one more time. Then one date caught my eye. Our sixth wedding anniversary. That night, he had told me an emergency surgery would keep him late. I had sent him a photograph of the table I'd set. Below it, I had written: Don't worry about me. Take your time. He had replied with a heart. I went back to the driving log. 12:09 a.m.—Claire Bennett's apartment. I remembered wrapping our untouched cake. At twelve, I had still been afraid my husband hadn't eaten. Nine minutes later, he was at her door. ###Chapter 2 The message Daniel sent on our sixth anniversary was still on my phone. 11:04 p.m. Surgery's over. Everything went well. I'm exhausted. I had answered, Come home safely. I saved you dinner. Seventeen minutes later, his car left the hospital garage. The route on the screen did not turn west toward our house. It went east, crossed the river, and ended outside Claire's apartment at 12:09. Daniel came home after one. His covered plate was still waiting in the refrigerator. The next morning, he said he had eaten after surgery, so I threw the food away before work. I had been grateful someone at the hospital had remembered to feed him. For months, I remembered that anniversary as another night our marriage had lost to his work. Now the blue route across the river replaced it. The November entry needed no replay. Eleven minutes after telling me he was too tired to pick me up, his car had left the hospital for Claire's building. The next date was the night my husband told me to call an Uber. November 14. I remembered I had ordered the car and stood behind a concrete pillar until it arrived. His journey log showed another arrival that night. 11:26 p.m. Claire's apartment. While I waited with water inside my shoes, he had been driving in the opposite direction again. He had been too tired to collect me. He had still found the energy to take her home. I didn't need to check all 227 dates. I needed to stop explaining away the ones I already recognized. I picked up my phone. Claire's Instagram account was public. Beneath her profile was a saved Story collection titled ON CALL. I had opened it once before. All I remembered were paper coffee cups, hospital corridors, and city lights after dark. This time, I knew what I was looking at. Daniel's dashboard filled the screen. A coffee cup sat in the holder. A charging cable curled over the passenger seat. I knew that cable. I'd bought it after his old one broke. The next photograph showed a hand holding a granola bar above the same seat. I bought those every Sunday and put a few in his car. The caption read: "Another night-shift rescue from my work husband." My fingers tightened around the edge. I had packed the same bars beside his lunch that morning. There were still two boxes in our cupboard. I'd been making sure he had something to eat. She was eating the food I bought for my husband, flaunting a care she never earned. My phone buzzed in my hand. A text from Daniel. You've been in the garage for a while. Everything okay? I stared at his name. Then I looked back at the One date beneath a photograph. July 12th. That afternoon, I had declined the senior operations position in Seattle. Daniel had said moving during his fellowship would damage everything he had worked for. I typed my rejection email that same afternoon, giving up my career for our marriage. At 9:00 p.m. that night, his car was parked at Claire's apartment. He didn't need me here. He just needed me to stay in my place. I closed Claire's page. I saved the photographs beside the driving records, then I scrolled past grocery receipts and joint bank statements until I found the year-old email thread. The recruiter's last message: If circumstances ever change, call me. I pressed Reply. My circumstances have changed. Is it too late to talk? Ten minutes later, her answer appeared. The original position has been filled. Then a second message followed. But I may have something better. ###Chapter 3 I came home as if I had not spent the day learning that my husband had driven another woman home 227 times. The house smelled like warm chamomile tea.Daniel was standing in the kitchen. He looked up and gave me his perfect, familiar smile. "You were down there for a while," he said. "Is the car okay?"I looked at him. Ten minutes ago, I was sitting in his driver's seat. I was staring at 227 trips to another woman's apartment. Now, he was just my caring husband again. "It's fine," I said. My voice was completely steady. "I just had to reply to a work email." He poured a cup of tea and pushed it across the counter toward me. "Drink this," he said gently. "And don't forget to get ready. We have the hospital charity dinner at seven." My navy dress was already hanging outside the closet. A glass of water waited beside it. He could lie to me and still remember which dress I liked. Before we left, I straightened his tie and put two antacid tablets in his pocket. Daniel smiled and kissed my temple. "What would I do without you?" At the hospital ballroom, Claire answered that question. She sat beside Daniel. When he reached for the chili-glazed shrimp, her arm crossed in front of him and her fingers closed around the plate. She pulled it away before his fork touched it. Claire placed it beside her elbow and pushed the roasted chicken toward him. "No. You complained about your stomach all day yesterday." Daniel smiled. ""You're worse than Maya." A doctor across from them whistled. "Work-wife privileges." Claire raised one eyebrow. "Privileges? This is unpaid labor." The table broke into laughter. Someone lifted his glass. "Maya gets him at home. Claire gets custody during night shifts." Claire looked at me. Her smile softened, but her hand remained beside Daniel's plate. "Don't be dramatic. I always return him." They laughed again. At home, I carried his antacids and kept his dinner warm. Here, Claire ordered his drinks, watched his food while everyone treated it as charming. "Don't mind them," she told me. "They've made that joke forever." "How long is forever?" Before she answered, a doctor laughed. "Long enough for Claire to own his passenger seat." "And get free rides," someone added. "How many now?" I put down my fork. "Two hundred and twenty-seven." The table quieted. Daniel's smile disappeared. His eyebrows drew together. "You went through my navigation history?" That was his first question. Not why the number was so high. Not how many nights I had waited for him. How had I found out? "you said you hated giving people rides." I said. "Maya, please be reasonable," he said. "She works late shifts. It gets dark. It is not safe for a woman to go home alone. I am just helping a colleague." I stared at him. He was using his "kindness" as a weapon against me. Claire surveyed the silent table. She pushed the shrimp back to the center and gave me the careful smile of someone stepping between two unreasonable people. "Please don't blame Daniel. At first, I asked because I didn't feel safe. After that, it became a habit.I'm truly sorry. I didn't know you cared this much." She had not apologized for hiding 227 rides. She had apologized for failing to predict how insecure I would be. She was trying to make me look like a jealous, insecure wife making a scene over a small favor. But I did not fight with her about who was insecure. "Yes," I said. "I care." Her smile paused. "Can you get home by yourself from now on?" "Of course." She forced a stiff smile."If that makes you more comfortable." Daniel looked unhappy. He wanted to say something to defend her. But he looked at my calm face and stopped. "You've made the whole table uncomfortable." He exhaled and looked away. "Fine. If this matters that much to you, Claire won't ride with me anymore." "Starting tonight." Daniel's jaw tightened. "Starting tonight." No one mentioned his work wife again. The laughter did not return. When the dinner ended, rain hammered against the ballroom windows. Claire stood near the exit, refreshing the ride app. A cancellation appeared. Then another. She looked at Daniel before slipping her phone into her bag. "It's okay. We said no more rides." Then, she put on a brave, understanding smile. "Maya deserves to feel secure in her marriage. I can walk." She opened the glass door. Wind pushed rain across the floor, and Claire stepped toward it as if she expected someone to stop her. I did not look at her. I did not care about her performance. I looked at my husband. Daniel's hand had already moved to the car keys in his pocket. ###Chapter 4 Daniel had promised he would never drive Claire home again. Less than two hour later, his hand closed around his car keys. Wind drove water across the marble floor. Daniel caught the door before it closed. "Claire, stop." She turned with rain already shining on one shoulder of her coat. "No. I don't want to cause another argument. Maya's already upset. I can walk." She reached for the door again. Daniel caught her wrist before she stepped outside. "Don't be ridiculous." Then he turned to me as if I were the one forcing him into an impossible choice. "We'll all go. We'll drop Claire off, then go home." The elevator to the hotel garage opened behind us. I could already picture Claire in the passenger seat and myself sitting behind them while Daniel completed trip 228. "No."I said."This isn't about safety anymore,It's about whether your promise lasts until it becomes inconvenient." "The front desk can call a taxi. She can wait here safely." Daniel's mouth tightened. "Her drivers canceled. You want her sitting alone in a lobby because you're angry?" Behind Claire, several doctors were still collecting their coats. The concierge stood at the front desk. Two security guards waited beside the entrance, and the hotel lobby remained bright and crowded. Claire was not alone. Claire lowered her eyes. "The app says forty-seven minutes. But I'll manage." Daniel took her work bag before she could lift it onto her shoulder. "I'm not leaving you here for almost an hour." Then he faced me. "I'll take her home and come back for you." "If you leave, don't come back pretending you didn't choose to." His grip tightened around Claire's bag. For several seconds, he said nothing. I could see the decision settle over his face before he spoke. "Don't punish Claire because you're jealous, Maya. It's after midnight, it's raining, and she would be going home alone." "She's in a staffed hotel surrounded by coworkers." "That isn't the point." It was exactly the point. Claire had somewhere warm and safe to wait. She had a phone, security, a front desk, and half a ballroom of people who knew her. Daniel still looked at her as if I were forcing her into danger. "We'll talk when I get back," he told me. I looked at the keys in his hand. One bag. One set of keys. One choice. He truly believed our marriage would just wait for him to return. Claire followed him toward the garage. The elevator doors closed. I stood in the lobby while their car left the garage. Around me, two residents waited for a shared ride. A nurse sat beneath the awning until her husband arrived. The concierge called a taxi for an older couple. No one was stranded. Daniel had told me he hated being a driver. He had sent me home alone after urgent care when I had a fever. He had told me to keep waiting when rides canceled in heavy rain. Each time, he said he was tired.He told his wife to be independent. But tonight, Claire simply could not get a car immediately. And he instantly left his wife behind to rescue her. I ordered my own car. By the time I reached home, my dress was damp around the hem. Daniel's empty coffee mug stood beside the sink. I opened my laptop. The Seattle recruiter had offered me a Director of Clinical Operations position. The same board had interviewed me the previous year, so my references and evaluations were still current. The formal offer waited in my inbox. The salary was higher. Relocation was covered. I would have six weeks to start. At the bottom were two buttons. DECLINE. ACCEPT OFFER. Daniel had asked me to stay for his career. Tonight, he had left me for Claire's ride home. I pressed ACCEPT OFFER. A message from Daniel appeared. Claire is home. I'm coming back for you. I looked around our quiet kitchen. He did not know I had already come home without him. Then another email arrived. Welcome to Seattle. Daniel had just completed his 228th trip to Claire's apartment. He had no idea it would be the one that sent his wife 1,100 miles away. #Goodnovel #Wattpad #Dreame #Library #Novel #Booktok #Bookish #Marriage #Friends #Pregnancy #Divorce #Choice #Angst #Heartbreak #shortnovel 🔥🔥🔥📚Only a limited number of chapters can be displayed here.Click "View details"to open the application and continue reading (it will utomatically navigate to the corresponding book page)👉👉👉📜📜🔥🔥
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