CHAPTER 90: FINDING MY VERSION OF LIZ

Alexia’s POV:

The day dragged on like an unending nightmare. I sat through lecture after lecture, but I couldn’t tell you a single thing that was said. The words floated around me, meaningless background noise to the storm in my head. My thoughts were elsewhere—stuck in an endless loop of what-ifs that I had no business entertaining.

Would Aiden have dropped everything for me if I had been the one in the hospital?

Would he have rushed to my side, panic-stricken and desperate to be there for me, the way he had for her?

Doubt clawed at my chest, bitter and unrelenting. Of course not, Alexia. Don’t be stupid.

I mean, sure, we were married, technically. But that was just paperwork. A contract. There was no love between us, no real bond beyond the forced proximity we had to endure.

But with Liz?

Liz was different. Liz had history with him. Liz had his care, his concern—his heart.

I swallowed down the bitterness rising in my throat, only to be interrupted by the nonstop chatter of my self-proclaimed bestie, Lucy.

"—and then she had the audacity to show up wearing the exact same dress, but obviously, hers was the knockoff version, because girl, please, you cannot compare Gucci to whatever flea-market disaster she was wearing. Oh! Speaking of disasters, you won’t believe what people are saying about you and Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sexy."

I blinked, barely processing her words.

"Huh?"

Lucy rolled her eyes so hard I thought she’d strain a muscle. "Your marriage, Alexia. The talk of the campus. Again."

I sighed, nodding absently as she continued her gossip marathon. I had mastered the art of tossing in an occasional "mmh" and strategically timed nods, fooling her into thinking I was actually paying attention.

Rude? Maybe.

Necessary? Absolutely.

Because no matter how hard I tried to focus on anything else, my brain kept circling back to the same frustrating thoughts.

Where was Aiden right now?

Was he still with Liz?

Did he even think about me at all?

The last question irritated me the most. Why do I care? He was a stupid husband anyway. One who didn’t even bother explaining himself before running off to another woman.

I clenched my jaw, my fingers tightening around my pen as I aggressively doodled on my notebook.

Damn Aiden Timberlake.

Damn his stupid concern for Liz.

And most of all—damn me for caring.

Lucy, bless her nosy little heart, tried everything to cheer me up. She cracked jokes, gossiped about some influencer’s disastrous fashion choices, and even showed me a few memes that should have at least made me chuckle. But after a while, she huffed in frustration, placing her hands on her hips.

"Alright, spill," she demanded, her sharp eyes narrowing at me. "Why do you look like someone just ran over your cat?"

I sighed, poking at my coffee like it held the answers to life’s greatest mysteries. "Liz."

Lucy’s entire demeanor shifted in an instant. Her eyes flared with indignation, and she scoffed dramatically, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Ugh, her?! What does she want this time? Didn’t she get the memo that you are the wife here? What is with this woman and her obsession with interfering in your marriage?"

I didn’t answer, mostly because I didn’t trust myself to. Lucy didn’t know about the fake part of my marriage, and she wasn’t supposed to. As far as she was concerned, Aiden and I were the perfect, albeit slightly chaotic, couple.

She crossed her arms, tapping her nails against her elbow. "I swear, that woman needs to be exterminated. She’s like one of those nasty little mosquitoes that keep buzzing around no matter how many times you swat at them."

Despite my mood, I snorted. "A mosquito, huh?"

"A disease-ridden mosquito," Lucy corrected with a huff. Then, suddenly, her face lit up like she’d just had a stroke of genius. "Wait. I know exactly how we’re going to handle this."

I raised an eyebrow. "We?"

"Yes, we," she said, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Liz is clearly trying to insert herself into your marriage, so it’s time we remind Aiden exactly who his wife is. And nothing gets a man’s attention faster than a little competition."

I frowned. "Competition?"

Lucy grinned. "Make. Him. Jealous."

I nearly choked on my drink. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, don’t ’excuse me’ me," she said, rolling her eyes. "Men are so predictable. Aiden is probably so used to having you all to himself that he’s getting a little too comfortable. And now here comes Liz trying to slither back in, thinking she has a chance? Oh, hell no. We need to remind your husband that he’s got something worth fighting for."

I hesitated, unsure how to respond. It wasn’t like that. Aiden wasn’t mine. He wasn’t comfortable with me—hell, if anything, he probably preferred Liz over me.

But I couldn’t say any of that.

So instead, I sighed. "And how exactly do you propose I make him jealous?"

Lucy smirked. "Simple. If he has his precious Liz, then you’ll get your own Li."

I blinked. "A Li?"

"A Li!" she repeated excitedly. "Your own version of his Liz. Someone to flirt with, someone hot enough to make Aiden’s blood boil. Trust me, even the most loving husband—" she winked, "—hates seeing another man sniffing around his wife."

My stomach twisted slightly at her words. Loving husband. If only she knew.

Still...

A small, wicked part of me started to consider it.

Would it even work?

Doubtful.

Would it be fun?

Oh, absolutely.

I tapped my chin thoughtfully, a slow smirk forming on my lips. "Alright, Lucy. Let’s find me a Li."

Lucy was practically vibrating with excitement as she plotted my so-called jealousy plan. I, on the other hand, wasn’t sure whether to be amused or deeply concerned.

"Alright, babe," she whispered, linking her arm through mine as we strolled across campus. "We need a target, and lucky for you, I already have the perfect candidate."

I sighed. "Lucy, this isn’t some reality dating show. It’s not like I can just pick a guy and—"

"Professor Sinclair."

I stopped mid-step. "What?"

Lucy grinned, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Professor. Sinclair."

I blinked at her. "The Professor Sinclair? As in our professor? The one who literally just finished lecturing us on criminal psychology?"

"The very one," she confirmed, flipping her hair smugly. "And don’t even try to deny it, Alexia. I know you’ve noticed the way he glances at you every now and then."

I frowned. "He does not glance at me."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Oh, honey, he does. And not just in the ’ah yes, let me check if my student is listening’ kind of way. No, no, no. This man lingers

. And let’s not ignore the fact that he’s a total snack—tall, dark, broody, with that whole ’mysterious intellectual’ vibe going on." She wiggled her brows. "Tell me, wouldn’t it be so satisfying to see Aiden squirm while watching a hot professor flirt with you?"

I opened my mouth to argue... but then paused.

Because now that I thought about it...

Professor Sinclair did have a habit of looking my way. Not in an obvious, creepy way, but there was always this quiet intensity whenever our eyes met. And sometimes—only sometimes—I caught the ghost of a smirk on his lips, like he knew something I didn’t.

Oh no.

Lucy saw the exact moment realization dawned on me and grinned triumphantly. "Oh yeah, babe. You see it now, don’t you?"

I groaned. "Lucy, he’s my professor."

"Relax, it’s just a little harmless flirting," she shrugged. "Nothing scandalous—just enough to make your dear husband rethink leaving you for her royal highness Liz."

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "This is a bad idea."

Lucy smirked. "No, babe. This is a genius idea."

And just as she said that, Professor Sinclair himself stepped out of the faculty building, his sharp blue eyes scanning the crowd.

And then—he looked right at me.

And smirked.

Oh... shit.

Aiden’s POV:

Liz’s grip on my arm remained firm, her fingers curled tightly around me as if I were her lifeline. Even as she acknowledged Mike’s presence with a small smile, she didn’t let go.

I could feel Mike’s glare burning into me, but I didn’t care. This wasn’t about him. Liz was about to go into surgery, and she needed me right now. Whatever history—or complications—existed between us didn’t matter in this moment.

Mike, however, seemed to think otherwise.

"You good?" he asked her, his tone softer than I expected.

Liz nodded, offering a faint smile. "Thanks for coming, Mike. It means a lot."

Mike barely reacted, his jaw still clenched, his eyes flickering down to where Liz’s hand remained on my arm. His displeasure was obvious, and I knew exactly why. He was still pissed about the way I had liz favour. But now wasn’t the time for his jealous tantrums.

A nurse entered the waiting room, clipboard in hand.

"We need to prep her for surgery now," the nurse announced, her tone professional but firm. "You’ll have to step outside and wait."

Liz’s grip on me tightened. "Aiden," she whispered, her voice suddenly fragile. "Promise me you’ll wait for me."

I exhaled slowly, looking down at her. Her brown eyes searched mine, filled with a quiet desperation I wasn’t used to seeing. I squeezed her hand gently, giving her a small nod.

"I’ll be here when you wake up," I assured her.

Relief flashed across her face, and finally, she let go.

As Mike and I walked out of the room, the tension between us was palpable.

But I didn’t care.

Because right now, all I could think about was Liz.