He Cherished His White Moonlight, Not His Wife Novel – Everyone said Wendy Tyler was the most devoted wife on the base. She never grew jealous over the way Robert Scott pampered his so-called first love, Lydia Spencer. On the contrary, she even took it upon herself to look after the woman who lived at the center of her husband’s heart. That morning, Wendy rose before dawn to prepare a meal. Lydia had caught a minor cold, and Robert not only postponed important duties at the Brigade to care for her in person but also ordered Wendy to deliver three meals a day to the hospital without fail.
When Wendy stepped out of Manor Street carrying the insulated container, the sky was still gray with early light. “Off to the hospital again, bringing food for that bitch?” Laura Cooper, her neighbor, shook her head in exasperation as she carried her shopping bag. “In our neighborhood, you are the most accommodating wife I’ve seen. Robert treats Lydia like treasure, and you never show the slightest hint of jealousy. And now you even go attending her. If you ask me, you should toughen up.” Wendy lowered her lashes and answered softly, “If I did, he would only get angry.” “Let him be angry.
What else could he do, file for divorce?” “Yes.” Wendy lifted her head, a gentle smile curving her lips. “I’m afraid he’ll ask for a divorce.” Laura’s eyes widened. “You’re really that afraid of him leaving you?” “Of course.” Wendy’s reply was crisp, but her gaze was empty of any real emotion. Laura sighed heavily, wanting to argue further, but Wendy only smiled with graceful composure. “Thank you for your concern. I know what I’m doing.” At the hospital, Wendy walked the familiar corridor to the intensive care ward. She was just about to knock when she glimpsed through the glass window what was happening inside.
Robert sat by the bedside, his uniform jacket draped over the chair, sleeves rolled up on his crisp white shirt. He leaned forward, gazing intently at Lydia as she slept. With careful fingers, he brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. His eyes lingered on her features, tender in a way Wendy had never seen. Slowly, as if drawn by gravity, he bent down, almost as if to kiss her. But at the last moment, he stopped. The kiss landed instead on Lydia’s forehead, which was restrained, but full of feeling. Standing outside, Wendy felt her chest wrench sharply. It wasn’t jealousy. It was something else entirely.
She took a deep breath, waited a few seconds for her pulse to calm, and then knocked. “Come in.” By the time she pushed the door open, Robert had already returned to his cold, composed self. He rose to his feet, his uniform trousers pressed sharp, his shirt buttoned all the way to the collar, as if the tender man she had just seen had been nothing more than an illusion. “I made soup.” Wendy set the insulated container on the bedside table, her voice steady. “Mm.” Robert nodded. “Thank you for the trouble.” His gaze flicked toward the corner, where a wooden bucket stood brimming with used clothes. “That’s what Lydia has changed out of these past few days.
Take it home and hand-wash everything. Remember, her silk sleepwear must be washed in cold water, and her wool sweaters can’t be wrung out—” “I know,” Wendy interrupted softly as she bent to lift the heavy bucket. “I washed them the same way the last time she was hospitalized.” She was about to leave when his voice stopped her. “No need to bring soup tomorrow,” Robert said. “She’s being discharged tonight.” Wendy nodded. “All right.” “She’ll be staying at our house these next few days.” His tone left no room for debate. “Go back and prepare the guest room.” “All right.” That word again. Three years of marriage, and no matter what he demanded, her answer was always the same. For once, Robert’s eyes lingered on her, but Wendy was already out the door, carrying the weight of the bucket with her thin but straight back. Back home, she soaked the clothes and began cleaning the guest room.
She replaced the bedding, lit incense to clear out the stale air, watered the plants on the windowsill, and scrubbed the floor three times over. By the time she was finished, the sky had already darkened. Remembering that Robert would bring Lydia home tonight, Wendy tied on an apron and went into the kitchen. On the stove simmered dried mushroom beef, Lydia’s favorite. In the oven were ginger toasts, Robert’s special request.
On the side she made something without fat and salt, a green salad, since Lydia was watching her weight. Wendy’s knife moved mechanically as her thoughts drifted back to that moment in the hospital. Robert bending down to kiss Lydia. His profile etched in the sunlight—sharp jawline, high nose bridge, and a tiny mole at the corner of his eye. Exactly like Luca West. The shrill ring of the phone snapped her