Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 129

After Mila's feeble resistance proved futile, she was practically dragged to bed by Miranda, who wrapped herself around Mila like an octopus, denying her any sly chance to sneak away and work.

The next day, Miranda was insistent on taking her shopping. "With the New Year just around the corner and both of us finally having some free time, let's take a couple of days to relax and heal. You can't just stay cooped up at home working all the time—you'll start growing mold!"

Miranda's logic was hard to argue with.

In a cozy café, Mila leaned back in her chair, sipping the warm milk she had ordered, feeling a bit resigned. "With my head in this state, shouldn't I just stay home and rest?"

"Come on, I'm not asking you to run a marathon; just a change of scenery and some fresh air to prevent cabin fever," Miranda replied with a gentle sigh. "If it weren't so cold, I'd take you up the mountain. The snow up there is perfect for a winter camping trip right now."

Mila's eyes lit up at the idea. "Now that sounds amazing."

One of the themes for Mila's July Milan Fashion Week designs was inspired by nature and landscapes. A trip to the mountains could spark fresh inspiration. Art isn't about being confined to routines or isolated in one place; it's about seeing the world, grounding your feet on new soil, and letting your soul collide with the raw essence of nature to create something extraordinary.

restricted her travels, but not anymore. The thought stirred a longing within her to

"Don't even think about it. With that gash on your head, you'd risk getting frostbite and ending up in an ambulance. I want to enjoy the holiday, not

deflated as she

up some treats and trinkets. But then, unexpectedly, Mila received a call from

the call. As soon as she answered, her mother-in-law's cheerful voice came through.

move back to the family home well in advance of the holiday, helping her mother-in-law with the festive preparations, shopping, chatting, and indulging in whatever activities she enjoyed. This year, she had

she

sighed internally, hesitated for a moment, and then offered a reluctant excuse. "Mom, I'm really busy this year. I honestly can't make it. You all enjoy the

end, and when Felicity spoke again, her

forcing herself to be firm. "No,

disappointment in her mother-in-law's voice, and before she could

moment, phone in hand, feeling a strange sense of unease. But she shook it off. Her father-in-law was there; everything would