Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 282

The fog lifted.

Suddenly, everything became clear-clearer than it had ever been.

Two hours later.

Howard had been waiting outside the entire time, growing more anxious as the minutes ticked by and no one emerged. Just as he finally decided to push open the door, it swung inward from the other side.

Mila staggered out, her face ashen and her eyes vacant, on the verge of collapse. Howard rushed forward, catching her before she could fall.

"Ms. Sutherland? Ms. Sutherland?"

The sound of her name seemed to reach Mila through a haze. She tried to answer, but the world spun, darkness closing in, and she crumpled in his arms.

"Ms. Sutherland! Ms. Sutherland!"

Panic flickered across Howard's face as he gathered her up and hurried outside. The doctor later said she'd fainted from sitting too long, combined with emotional shock. On the drive to the hospital, Mila regained consciousness halfway there.

She insisted the driver turn the car around and head back to Bamboo Grove.

"I'm fine just a little low blood sugar," she explained, managing a faint smile. "I just need to rest. No need for the hospital."

After reassuring Forrest over the phone, Mila hesitated for a long moment before finally broaching what was really on her mind.

"Forrest, could you... play the piano for me tonight?"

Forrest's gentle voice came through. "If you want to hear it, of course

knew the truth. It

the photos: Forrest's hands, fingers broken and covered in scars. She bit her lip, afraid her voice would betray her, and simply murmured an agreement

pulled up to Bamboo

eye on the child,

her face was calm again,

She tucked the child into bed as usual, woke them gently when sleepwalking threatened in the night,

as it had

the villa grounds. Then, without a

She went alone.

pulled the cloth cover from a dressmaker's mannequin and

it herself for Lysander, long

she'd thought about destroying the suit when their divorce proceedings began. But after three grueling months of work, she couldn't bring herself to do it, and instead planned to give

was no

few other keepsakes: a cheap wedding band abandoned in the bedroom, a small robotic toy Lysander had given her on their wedding night, and a

on the table

had left from her marriage-so little

nothing but

sudden, hollow laugh. Shaking her head, she stood up, went to the kitchenette, and fetched a kitchen knife, setting it carefully on the table. Then she sent a message to Lysander,

you. There are things

was time to end things with Lysander-once and for

April 4th-Palm Sunday.

washed clean by a gentle spring rain that