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.

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

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 green lawn. In one corner of the canvas, a crimson sun glowed bright

groom in a sharp suit, walking together

the painted couple. She stared at them,

It hit her:

never had a wedding of her own. She'd never walked down the aisle in a white dress. All she'd ever had was a flimsy marriage certificate—nothing more. Her whole marriage, from start to finish, had been

a new detail- several ominous black crows swept across the green lawn, circling the bride and groom on the red carpet.

crimson roses-symbols of corruption-crept along the white church. Holiness and darkness,

bad omens. She lowered her veil and looked over her shoulder at the silent man standing behind her, her eyes asking a wordless

What do

up the brush and began

stared at the doves circling the painted church, her lips curling in

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

could there really be

too deep. The damage was already done. Forgiveness

dead end,

Mila snatched the brush from his hand, dipped it in scarlet paint, and slashed at the painted bride and

her wrist, stopping her. Only a few drops of red

his grip, the brush falling to the ground as he pulled her into his arms. She could feel his heart pounding against her back, hear the roughness

said quietly. "Let's let the church bear

She was silent.