My Husband Wants An Open Marriage (Julie and Ryan)

CHAPTER 089: No One Hates A Dying Man -Ryan O'Brien~~

Ryan's palms are sweaty, and his throat feels tight as he scans the room. The walls are a soft, muted green, the kind of calming color that's supposed to make you feel relaxed, but all it does is make him itch. There's a framed print of a serene forest landscape on the wall opposite him and a smaller, abstract painting that looks like a five-year-old's tantrum on canvas. He tells himself he's focusing on the art because he finds it adorable in a ridiculous way, but he knows the truth. He's avoiding the therapist's face. Because he shouldn't be here.

This is a waste of time, he thinks, shifting in his seat. His fingers tap an erratic rhythm on his knee, a habit he picked up since everything went to hell. Why does he need to talk to a shrink? His mother insisted, though. Said he was spiraling. Said he wasn't himself anymore. So, here he is.

"Ryan."

The voice is calm, measured. He finally glances at the man sitting across from him. Dr. Matthew Grant, mid-forties, clean-shaven, with wire-rimmed glasses that make him look more like a college professor than a therapist. His office smells faintly of sandalwood, and there's a small water fountain in the corner, its gentle trickling noise grating on Ryan's

nerves.

ink?'

"Your mother thought it might help to talk," Dr. Grant says. "What do you think?"

Ryan shrugs, staring at a spot on the carpet. "I think my mother's a meddler. Always has been."

Dr. Grant nods as if he's heard this a thousand times before. "So, you're here for her, not for yourself?"

"I'm here because she wouldn't stop nagging. She thinks I'm falling apart. But I'm fine."

"Are you? You don't seem fine."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It's just an observation," Dr. Grant says calmly. "You're tapping your knee like it owes you money, and you haven't made eye contact since you walked in. That doesn't scream' fine' to me.

Ryan exhales, leaning back in his chair. "Look, I don't need a lecture."

"I'm not here to lecture. I'm here to listen."

Silence stretches between them. The damn water fountain keeps gurgling, and Ryan's

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CHAPTER 089: No One Hates A Dying Man

fingers keep tapping. He hates this. He hates himself right now. But something in Dr. Grant's steady gaze makes him snap.

"My wife left me." The words spill out before he can stop them. "She left me for another man."

Dr. Grant doesn't react. He just nods, waiting.

"I can't... I can't seem to function anymore," Ryan admits. "It's like... the only thing keeping me going is the baby in my girlfriend's womb."

The room falls silent. Ryan immediately regrets saying it. He shifts in his seat as Dr. Grant tilts his head.

"You mentioned a girlfriend. You're in a relationship now?"

Ryan grimaces. "Not exactly. It's complicated.

"Complicated how?"

He hesitates. "Emily. My secretary. She's pregnant."

"How did that happen?"

Ryan chuckles. "Is that a trick question?"

"No. I'm asking how things progressed to that point."

Ryan rubs the back of his neck. "Julie-my wife and I... we agreed to an open marriage. It was supposed to fix things, you know? She was distant, and I thought... maybe we needed something new. Something different. But the second I brought Emily home, Julie lost her mind. She went ballistic."

Dr. Grant leans forward. "What did you expect her reaction to be?"

"I expected her to be fine with it. We agreed to this. She's always wanted a baby, and I thought..." He trails off, rubbing his temples. "I thought it'd be a way for us to have what she wanted."

"A baby."

"Yeah," Ryan says. "I... I thought maybe Emily's baby could be ours. I don't know why she freaked out."

Dr. Grant is silent for a moment, then asks, "How do you think Julie felt when you brought Emily home?"

Ryan glares at him. "How am I supposed to know? She's the one who agreed to the open marriage!"

"But did she agree to you bringing someone into your home? Into your personal life?"

Ryan opens his mouth, then closes it. His fingers tap faster. "I don't know. Maybe not. But what was I supposed to do? We were falling apart. I was trying to fix it."

Dr. Grant's voice remains calm. "By involving fomeone else?"

"I was desperate," Ryan snaps. "Julie wasn't talking to me. She was shutting me out. I thought this was what she wanted. I thought... His voice falters.

"You thought bringing another woman into your marriage would save it?"

Ryan's hands clench into fists. "I thought... I thought it would make her happy. She wanted a kid. I didn't know how else to give her that."

Dr. Grant watches him. "Ryan, how do you think Julie felt when Emily became pregnant?"

Ryan shakes his head, his voice rising. "Everyone keeps thinking they know anything about my life with Julie! They don't! My mother, my friends, and now you. You don't know what it was like. You weren't there. You didn't see how distant she was, how she stopped looking at me, how she..." He stands abruptly, pacing. "I tried. Damn it, I tried. But nothing was good enough for her."" "And do you think Julie felt the same way?"

Ryan stops pacing, breathing heavily. His fists unclench, and for a moment, he looks utterly lost. "I don't know." His voice is hoarse, broken. "I don't know what she felt anymore."

He grabs his coat, eyes flashing with anger and pain.

"I'm done here," he says.

Without waiting for a response, he storms out, leaving the door swinging behind him. Fuck anyone who tries to pin this on him.

"You want to go bald?" The barber squints at Ryan through the mirror. "Like, completely bald? Or are we talking a buzz cut?" "Bald," Ryan repeats. "All of it. Gone."

The barber, a wiry man with salt-and-pepper hair named Joe, sets down his clipper and crosses his arms. "You got some sort of condition I need to know about? Cancer? Alopecia?"

"No," Ryan says. "I'm fine. I don't need a pity session. Just shave my head."

Joe hesitates, then shrugs. "It's your hair, man, But you've got great hair. Thick. Full. You sure you wanna waste it?"

Ryan's fingers twitch against the armrest of the barber chair. "I'm sure. I need to look the

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CHAPTER 089 No One Hates A Dying Man

part."

Joe picks up the clipper again but pauses. "The part of what?"

"A dying man."

"Excuse me?"

"No one hates a dying man," Ryan mutters, more to himself than Joe. His mind drifts, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. "Julie won't. She'll see me, and she'll feel something again. Pity, guilt... anything. It doesn't matter. I just need to crack open that door." Joe gives him a long, uneasy look. "Look, buddy, you sure you don't wanna talk to someone? This squnds..."

"I'm fine." Ryan's tone is sharp, final. "Just do it."

Joe shakes his head, muttering something about 'people losing their damn minds,' but turns the clipper on. The buzz fills the room, loud and incessant, drowning out everything else.

As the first clump of hair falls to the floor, Ryan stares straight ahead, but his mind is back in Dr. Grant's office.

'How do you think Julie felt when you brought Emily home?'

Ryan clenches his teeth. Who the hell did Dr. Grant think he was? Sitting there,.acting like he knew anything about his life.

Julie left because of that snake, Lucas Martinez. Ryan's fists tighten on the armrests. Lucas charmed his way into her life, wormed his way into her heart. They'd been doing fine until he showed up.

The clipper continues its relentless hum, and more hair tumbles down. His scalp starts to feel the cool bite of the air, and with it, a strange sense of release. Like he's shedding something more than hair. Something heavier.

He remembers Julie's face the last time they spoke. That look in her eyes-she was happy. Happy she was leaving him. She didn't even give him a chance to explain. To make her see that everything he did, he did for them. For their future. "Breathe through it," Joe says, as if sensing Ryan's tension.

Ryan inhales, forcing himself to relax. When Joe finally steps back, Ryan barely recognizes the man in the mirror. His sharp cheekbones, his piercing eyes. The vulnerability of his bare scalp. He runs a hand over it, the sensation foreign and raw.

Joe tilts his head, studying Ryan like he's some abstract art piece. "Well, you definitely look different. Maybe even a little badass. But are you sure this will make her come back?"

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CHAPTER 099 No One Hates A Dying Man

Ryan stands, tossing a few bills onto the counter. "We'll see."

He strides out before Joe can respond, the cool air biting at his freshly exposed scalp. He heads straight for his car, his mind on one thing

Julie.

When Ryan gets to Illusionaire, the building looms over him, intimidating in its sleekness.

He takes a deep breath and walks in, navigating his way to Julie's office.

Susan, Julie's secretary, is on the phone, her manicured nails tapping against the keyboard. She looks up. "Mr. O'Brien?"

"I need to see Julie," he says.

Susan hesitates, then picks up her phone. "Let me check if she's available.

11

He waits, his pulse thrumming in his ears. He doesn't blink, doesn't move. He just stands there, willing this moment to go his way.

Susan hangs up. "She'll see you."

Ryan doesn't thank her. He strides past the desk, his footsteps echoing down the hall. When he reaches Julie's office, he pauses for half a second, then pushes the door open. Julie is behind her desk, her hands poised over her keyboard. When she looks up, her eyes widen. "Ryan?"

He smiles, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of emotion. He expects shock, maybe anger. Instead, she stares at his shaved head, her brows knitting together in concern. "You shaved your head?"

"New look," he says, stepping inside. "Figured I'd do it myself before the cancer does it for

me."

She hesitates. "It's... surprising."

He takes a step closer, ready to launch into his rehearsed speech, but then he sees it. Her

hand.

A big diamond glints on her left ring finger, catching the light.

His smile vanishes. "What the hell is that?"