Chapter 219
Aria’s POV
My thoughts were a complete mess as I sat on the bed. First, I’d had another woman between Aiden and me, and now that we’d just confessed our feelings for each other, suddenly this “dream girl” appears out of nowhere? Talk about history repeating itself.
Once bitten, twice shy. I felt myself slipping back into that painful, insecure place I’d been before.
But I wasn’t the same naive, brave girl anymore. If Aiden truly had feelings for this dream girl, I’d divorce him immediately and let them be together.
After all, our marriage wasn’t exactly conventional from the start.
Yeah, divorce. That’s the solution. I took a deep breath, trying to convince myself I was fine with this possibility.
The bathroom door suddenly swung open, and Aiden walked out, freshly showered. My heart clenched with both heartache and guilt. I instinctively turned away, then immediately regretted it.
Aiden was too perceptive. Turning away would only make my feelings obvious.
I hesitated before forcing myself to turn back, only to meet his cool, penetrating gaze.
My fingers clutched at the bedsheets as I tried to sound casual. “Done with your shower p>
Aiden studied my flickering eyes for a long moment. He lowered his gaze, sat on the edge of the bed, but didn’t lie down. Instead, he watched me intently. “Something bothering you, Aria p>
My heart trembled under that searching look that seemed to see right through me. I tried to hold it together, but after a few moments, I couldn’t sustain it anymore. My eyes dropped to the deep purple comforter. “A little bit p>
Actually, way more than a little bit.
I pressed my lips together, feeling that wave of discomfort rising again, like a dam about to burst.
“Trouble at work?” he asked.
I shook my head and glanced up at him. “Maybe it’s just PMS p>
I didn’t want Aiden to know how upset I was. If what Eleanor said about this dream
girl was true, showing my vulnerability would just make me look pathetic.
Aiden watched me without speaking. The room fell into silence. Just as I was about to say something to break the tension, a shadow fell over me.
Aiden leaned toward me, his body blocking the light. I instinctively looked up.
“Would a hug make you feel better?” he asked, his eyes fixed on mine.
His question caught me off guard. My eyes immediately welled up. “Yes,” I whispered.
Whatever this dream girl situation was, right now I just needed to be held.
I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck.
Aiden slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me against him.
“That unhappy?” he murmured, his forehead nearly touching mine.
The scent of his shower gel mingled with my own—the same fragrance—until I couldn’t tell which was his and which was mine.
I looked up at him briefly. “Just… not feeling great p>
I couldn’t lie convincingly. Afraid he’d read the truth in my eyes, I lowered my gaze after just a couple of seconds.
My arms tightened around his neck unconsciously as I bit my lip, feeling utterly useless.
I was legally Mrs. Carter, for God’s sake. Why couldn’t I just ask him one simple question?
“Did Eleanor contact you p>
I froze at his sudden question. How did he know? I hadn’t said anything!
I panicked and instinctively gripped something for comfort-forgetting my hands
were around his neck. My right hand accidentally tugged at his damp hair.
Aiden, not getting an answer, correctly guessed he’d hit the mark.
His dark eyes deepened as his hand at my waist shifted, creating a bit more distance between us. “What did she say p>
He tilted my chin up with his fingers, forcing me to meet his gaze.
I automatically looked away, focusing on his collar instead. “She didn’t reach out to
me p>
I took a breath and forced myself to meet his eyes. “Really p>
She’d just sent a text, that’s all.
Aiden stared at me without speaking.
Neither of us said anything, creating a strange atmosphere in the room.
This didn’t last long. After a few seconds, Aiden broke the silence: “Since Mrs.
Carter doesn’t want to talk about it, I won’t push. But whether Eleanor contacted you
or not, I want to restate that I don’t have a habit of settling p>
“So, whatever Mrs. Carter is worried about, it doesn’t exist p>
At first, I didn’t fully understand what he meant. I just wanted this uncomfortable interrogation to end.
“I know,” I said.
Like hell I knew!
Aiden looked at me, raising an eyebrow with resignation before releasing me. “It’s late. Let’s sleep. Hopefully after a good night’s rest, Mrs. Carter will feel better p>
I stared at him blankly for a moment
until I noticed his hand lightly touching my arms still wrapped around his neck, Embarrassed, let go and moved away from his embrace, slipping under the thin comforter.
Aiden turned his head to watch me curled up under the comforter. He unhurriedly pulled back the part of the comforter I was pressing down on, then lay down beside
me.
With a soft click, the light went out, plunging the room into darkness.
I opened my eyes, staring into the blackness, thinking about what Aiden had just said.
Was he saying if he really had a dream girl, he wouldn’t settle for staying with me?
Or was he saying if he really had a dream girl, he never would have agreed to marry me in the first place?
Did he truly understand what I was worried about?
With all these thoughts jumbled in my head, I eventually decided Aiden wasn’t that kind of man.
I barely slept until the middle of the night. When I woke up the next morning, Aiden was already gone from the bed.
The curtains were closed tight, keeping the room dark. I frowned, reached for my phone, and when I lit up the screen, I realized it was already after eleven.
So late!
I quickly sat up and grabbed the remote to open the curtains.
Bright sunlight flooded in, making my eyes sting and water immediately.
My phone showed several unread messages-some from Lillian sent last night, a performance schedule from Summer, and a message from Nana.
I immediately opened my messages. Before I could click into any specific chat, I saw Nana’s message: “JJ, Mr. Carter from World Class sent you a Yamaha AR195. What do you think p>
The only thought that crossed my mind was: when did Aiden find out I was JJ?
This made no sense. I’d always competed wearing a mask and left immediately after each race, never doing interviews or attending any organizer events. That’s exactly why, despite winning first place every year, JJ’s fame wasn’t even half that of the regular second and third-place winners who showed their faces.
My low profile and hidden identity meant I had little commercial value-there were even several major competitions where I didn’t even receive an invitation.
The organizers invited me repeatedly this time only because last year, as I was leaving, a social media influencer caught a photo of me in my mask and posted it online, sparking curiosity. Earlier this year, that same influencer casually, mentioned “Will show her face tonight?” on social media, bringing attention back to me. That’s why the organizers set their sights on me again this year.
But despite all that, except for Nana, no one knew my real identity all these years. Piano playing and jet skiing were as different as classical music and rock and roll. How could Aiden possibly know I was JJ?
Eleanor said Aiden had bought a jet ski that he intended to give to his dream girl. Before our wedding car accident, I’d never even formally met Aiden.
The Carter family wasn’t particularly prominent in our city, and Benjamin Carter wasn’t the type to network aggressively. Not just me—even Benjamin probably had little contact with Aiden.
How could I possibly be Aiden’s dream girl?
Yet that AR195 Aiden bought had indeed been delivered to me.
Perhaps there was no “dream girl” at all. Maybe Aiden didn’t know who JJ was, and
he simply admired JJ’s jet skiing skills?
The more I thought about it, the more likely this seemed!
Just as I was about to reply to Nana, my phone screen lit up with another message
from her: “JJ, did you see my message p>
Me: Yes, did they say anything else?
Nana: Not much, just that he likes you.
I pressed my lips together: Keep it. Tell him thanks for me.
Nana: Sure thing. Are you participating in the competition this time?
I started typing “No,” but deleted it and wrote instead: I declined the organizers invitation a few days ago, but they said they’d keep my
registration spot open, Please contact them and tell them be participating this time.
After sending the message, I thought for a moment and added: By the way, I might
take off my mask this time.
Nana: Really?! Really p>
Nana: You’re really going to show your face? I heard the organizers invited lots of
media this time. If you reveal your face, won’t Mr. Carter find out?
I cringed a little: Keeping it secret all this time isn’t right either.
Of course Nana wanted me to show my face!
Because I’d kept my identity hidden all these years, a lot of nasty rumors had
circulated that I couldn’t refute—I just had to endure them.
Nana had been my assistant for six years and had long felt bad about the malicious slander I’d endured. She’d wanted me to reveal myself for ages.
But she also knew jet skiing was just a personal hobby for me, not something I was
counting on for anything. So she’d kept her thoughts to herself.
Now that I’d made up my mind, she certainly wouldn’t object!
With my face alone, just taking off that mask would be enough to break the internet!