Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 402

Once she sorted out her thoughts, Mila found herself less resistant to the idea of the wedding. The endless sleepless nights finally faded, replaced by a strange

calm.

Still, she knew one thing for certain:

If she wanted to use this wedding as her escape, she needed to make sure of one detail the ceremony couldn't be held in the old manor. It had to be somewhere else, preferably outside.

The next morning, after breakfast, Mila reached out and gently caught hold of Cossio's sleeve just as he was about to leave—a silent plea for him to stay. Lately, maybe because of all the wedding preparations, Cossio had taken to disappearing right after breakfast and returning late at night. Mila didn't mind, but today was different. She needed something from him.

He turned, wrapping his hand softly around hers, his tone teasing and affectionate. "Darling, are you going to miss me if I go?"

She said nothing, just tugged gently at his sleeve.

He sighed in mock exasperation, his voice full of indulgence. "You're still as shy as ever, aren't you? Never willing to say you want me to stay. But that's all right-I love you too much to mind."

So, he stayed.

Mila immediately let go of his hand. Ever since she'd seen those disturbing paintings in the art studio, she found it impossible to look at Cossio the same way. He appeared so polite and restrained, but she knew now just how twisted his mind really was. Even the slightest touch left her uneasy.

Cossio, oblivious, assumed she was simply being bashful and chuckled to himself.

***

Daytime, the garden.

This time, though, Cossio wasn't the one painting. Draped in a shimmering golden scarf,

poised in her hand. Today, her colors were nothing like her usual somber palette. Instead, she painted with vivid, lively strokes, quickly capturing a grand, sunlit church rising from a lush

added a bride in a white gown, bouquet in hand, arm-in- arm with a groom in a sharp suit, walking together down a red carpet that led straight to the church doors. The scene was unmistakable-a wedding in

fixed on the painted couple. She stared at them,

It hit her:

white dress. All she'd ever had

the green lawn, circling the bride and groom on the red carpet. In an instant, the bright, sacred wedding scene was shrouded in

crimson roses-symbols of corruption-crept along the white

wedding scene tainted by misfortune and bad omens. She lowered her veil and looked over her shoulder at the silent man standing behind her, her

do

he picked up the brush and began painting over the black crows, transforming each one

Mila stared at the doves circling the painted church, her lips

man as ruthless and shameless as Cossio still harbored naïve hopes about weddings-hopes for luck, for happiness, for a perfect

really be a

deep. The damage was already

dead end, and they both knew

seized by a wild impulse, Mila snatched the brush from his hand, dipped it in scarlet paint, and slashed at the painted bride and groom-driven by a fierce, inexplicable need

her. Only a few drops of red fell onto the bride's dress, the rest of her

could feel his heart pounding against her back, hear the

decided," he said quietly. "Let's let the church bear

She was silent.