Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 388

Mila was so hungry her head was starting to spin.

Across from her, the man picked up his cane and, with the silver-engraved handle, tapped lightly on the pair of silk gloves resting on the table-the ones she'd just taken off and set down.

She sucked in a deep breath, exasperated.

Seriously?

What was with this obsessive compulsion? The urge to laugh bubbled up, but she fought it down and obediently slipped the gloves back on. Just as she finished, the plate of pastries was handed over again.

She took a bite. The dessert was so sweet it nearly brought her to tears.

Finally, something to eat.

At this point, anything tasted delicious to her. She did her best to eat with a semblance of grace, but she didn't bother to slow down; soon, the pastries were gone.

A small cup of coffee appeared.

She drank it in one gulp, wincing at the bitterness.

Honestly, she was still hungry. The pastries had only been a few tiny pieces, nowhere near enough. But the man ignored her, sitting off to the side, eyes fixed on his book.

The garden was utterly silent.

With the veil draped over her head, Mila couldn't see a thing-appreciating the garden was out of the question. Everything in her view was just a blur of color.

Still, she could make out one thing:

Black and crimson roses dominated the garden-the same variety as the one the man had placed in her palm earlier.

She didn't get it.

He'd brought her here by force, hadn't killed her, hadn't made any demands, barely even said a word. He refused any attempt at communication. What was the point of all this?

supposed to live or die? Couldn't he at least let her

then, the man put down his book. Gloved in black leather, his hand

air, then slipped beneath the edge of

butterfly perched delicately

unsure what he wanted. Was she supposed to take it? She hesitantly reached out, and the butterfly fluttered down

returned

Time crawled toward noon. Mila was almost dozing off in the heat when, suddenly, a

several figures moved

tell by their uniforms—set up a sunshade overhead and arranged

Her stomach growled.

she didn't dare

glance at the man. He closed his book, handed it

paid

supposed to

...

eventually won out. Lifting the heavy folds of her gold gown, Mila shuffled over to the table and sat down, pulling out a

no one

stabbed a piece of roast chicken from the nearest platter, lifting a corner

No one intervened.

she was allowed to eat? Was

kind of kidnapper starves their hostage,

was about to let herself starve to death. Mila didn't bother with pretense-she quickly polished off two pieces of chicken, then, emboldened, reached for another dish. That's

been standing silently nearby, pried the

pulled her away from the table with

her wrought-iron chair before

barely eaten

man still dining unhurriedly at the table. What a tyrant of

Lunch ended soon after.

been easier if she'd never gotten a taste in the first place-now her hunger was worse,

man liked