Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 545

Prev Chapter
Background

Font family

Font size

Line hieght

Full frame
Yes No

No line breaks
Yes No
Next Chapter

Chapter 545 The living room fell silent in an instant.

Mila sat quietly at the dining table, her expression dazed. She'd known Adrian would have trouble accepting this, but she hadn't expected such an intense reaction let alone for him to say those things.

They said... Who? No, this wasn't the tto get lost in questions.

She needed to go to him. Comfort him.

This could turn out to be a big deal or maybe nothing at all.

But... when she tried to get up, her body felt impossibly heavy, as if she was anchored to the chair-like she was drowning, unable to muster the strength to stand.

She couldn't move.

Her heart felt just as weighed down, a leaden ache in her chest.

The cozy warmth and the scent of food had faded from the room, leaving behind only a cold, hollow stillness.

Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt

After a moment, Mila flexed her fingers, stiff from holding her fork for so long, and slowly reached for the food on her plate. Her movements were sluggish; she ate bite by bite, barely tasting anything.

"It's cold now. Not good anymore," she murmured, swallowing mechanically.

She only managed a few bites before giving up-though she didn't feel hungry at all. Forcing herself to her feet, she began to clear the table, stooping to pick up the chicken drumstick that had been kicked under the table. She steadied herself against the tabletop, then dumped the cold leftovers into the trash.

Her stomach hadn't been the sthese last few years; she'd long since stopped eating leftovers. She never let the kids eat them either.

After washing the dishes, Mila paused, then set about tidying the mess in the living room, restoring the scattered furniture to its rightful place, smoothing the chaos little by little.

As the house regained its order, her thoughts gradually settled too.

Only then did she climb the stairs.

She stopped first in the guest bathroom to take a shower. It was late-she had no idea if Adrian had gone to sleep. Standing outside his bedroom door, she hesitated, choosing not to turn the knob right away, but instead knocked softly.

No answer.

She knocked again, and again-three times in total. Still no response.

At last she turned the handle and stepped inside. Light from the hallway spilled in, stretching long across the floor and cutting through the darkness just enough to reveal a small lump beneath the covers on the bed-still and unmoving.

She walked over and lay down beside the bed, gently resting her hand atop the bundled-up blanket. Beneath her palm, the comforter trembled ever so slightly. She sighed inwardly.

Softly, Mila spoke: "I never said I didn't want you." She paused, then continued, "But, sweetheart, I have my own life too. I have things I want for myself. You don't have to force yourself to accept it. If you don't like it, you don't have to call him 'Dad.' Call him whatever you like." But she wasn't going to change her mind.

She'd thought it through her life was her own.

She had her own wants, too.

Maybe she wasn't desperate to find another partner, and maybe it was mostly for Jade's sake, but now... she wasn't so opposed to the idea. Life would go as it would. No one could predict the future, and she didn't want to lie to Adrian about that.

At the very least, he needed to know where she stood.

She wouldn't give up her right to choose her own path just because of Adrian's feelings-nor would she expect him to do the same.

She refused to repeat old mistakes.

"Even if I don't know who told you those things, aren't you here withnow?" Mila went on, her voice gentle. "Can you try to askabout things that happen in our family? Trusta little more?" Moonlight spilled through the window.

Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm

The lump beneath the covers quivered.

The room was utterly quiet.

After a long time, a muffled, hoarse voice finally emerged from under the blanket -he must have been crying. "If I don't like it, can't you just not get remarried, Mom?" "I can't." Even love had to have its limits.

When it cto her own life, Mila would not yield.

Adrian fell silent.

He seemed to think it over before asking, "If get married again, will you have another child? If you have a better kid, someone who listens to you, will you stop wanting me?" "...No." Mila shifted closer, pressing her forehead gently against the quilted mound. "No matter what happens, you... you're my one and only. My precious." At her words, the trembling under the covers stilled.

Silence stretched out between them.

Then, after a while, Mila softly asked, "Do you still hate me?" The blanket trembled.

A moment later, it began to wiggle, and a little head with tousled hair peeked out. Whether from shyness or simply not wanting her to see his tear-streaked face, he burrowed straight into Mila's arms, clinging to her nightgown so tightly that the fabric wrinkled beneath his grip.

His voice was muffled.

"I'm sorry, Mom." "I don't hate you. I could never hate you." He paused, then, in a very small voice, added, "I was just scared... I keep making you angry, and I'm afraid you'll stop loving me." In the darkness, Mila's eyelashes,

Report chapter Comments

Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Notify