Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 419

Chapter 412

On the night boat,

Music drifted through the air-soft, haunting, full of hidden longing and desire. In the dim, shadowy cabin, a man and a woman faced each other: she stood, cool and aloof; he sat, silent, head bowed.

They stayed locked in that uneasy stillness for a long moment.

Then Lysander suddenly gave a low laugh. He slowly lifted his head, and the lamplight caught the raw redness in his eyes. His gaze burned with a desperate restraint. Mila's icy detachment seemed unbearable to him, tearing open something deep inside, exposing the raw, fragile flesh beneath his hardened shell.

The sensation of being so vulnerable, so exposed, filled him with shame-a darkness washed over his face.

He stood up and took a hesitant step toward Mila.

Then he stopped.

Her voice broke the silence, low and hard to read, as if stating a fact: "Lysander, you love me." A few seconds passed before she repeated herself, this time with a hint of confusion-almost a question: "You love me?"

He looked down, his expression unreadable.

"You actually love me?"

It was almost a joke—a stray, curious provocation that, against all odds, seemed

to have landed on the truth. A complex surge of emotion left her wanting to laugh, but the sound refused to come. All she felt was bitter irony.

He loved her?

What a joke.

An absolutely ridiculous joke.

her mouth, all that came out was silence. Her lips moved, parted, closed again, and finally she

could finish, his hand

her back against the wall, his bloodshot eyes burning into hers. He was smiling, but his

grip, Mila

at her neck, feeling the way his fingers shook. For a moment, she tried to pry

with sudden clarity, she said, "I

jaw clenched, voice barely above a whisper, wild and broken: "I don't love you, Mila.

if saying them could numb the pain squeezing his heart,

more he

cracked, choked with tears, his vision

always this cruel

wouldn't love her.

out

breath grew shallow, her face flushed. Her grip on his hand weakened,

Madman.

catching her as she crumpled to the floor, frantically pressing his ear to her chest for a heartbeat, searching for a pulse, fumbling with trembling hands to dial

coughed, violent and

Still clutching his hand, she met

"I believe you."

She coughed again, her voice hoarse. "I believe you now. You don't love me. You never

you really

his, her words as heavy as blows, "If you truly loved me, Lysander, I think

of pain, she wanted

"This is better."

there be nothing between us but hatred. Forever. Nothing else,

his arms. Their bodies were

his hand and

...

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