Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 269

Will you ever come back after going abroad?

Mila didn't even have to think about it-her first instinct was to shake her head. But then she worried it sounded too final, so she gave a little nod as well.

After everything that had happened last time, the trauma was still fresh.

Unless the legal team or Charlotte found some irrefutable evidence-something that could really turn the case around-she wasn't planning on coming back. If no new evidence came to light, she could always choose to file for separation after two years instead.

Even though she hadn't said a word, Forrest could read her thoughts just by the look on her face. He smiled and said, "Then I'll just have to visit you overseas as often as I can."

Mila parted her lips, wanting to tell him he didn't need to go through all that trouble. But then she thought about everything he'd done for her, all the ways he'd helped. In the end, she couldn't bring herself to refuse.

She wanted to excuse herself and go rest, but as she glanced down, her eyes caught on Forrest's elegant hands, resting quietly on his lap. Suddenly, she remembered what he'd said to Giselle at the party earlier that evening.

*Sorry, it's been years since I played. My hands are out of practice.*

The thought nagged at her. She couldn't help but ask, "You don't play piano anymore?"

his

long time," he said

Sensing he didn't want to talk about it, she decided not to press. She started to get up, but just then, his hand closed

to find Forrest watching her, an unmistakable sadness flickering in his eyes, though his voice was soft and steady. "If you ever want

skipped

hand, turning his

quite understand what had just happened, but her heart was

door closed

tightly on his knees that the veins stood out, trembling with the effort. For a long moment, he just sat there,

before he managed to open a drawer. He fumbled inside, pulling out a white bottle

care. He grabbed a few tablets, shoved them in his mouth, and swallowed

started to ebb that he

with one still-trembling hand. Memories from seven years ago crashed

ago, in a cramped, dim storage

bloodied hands was pinned beneath a spotless white sneaker. Next to

was slow and even. "Remember this. If you ever play that damned piano and try to charm anyone close to me again, I