Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 422

No matter how much Mila resisted, in the end, she was still dragged into warming up and listening to the safety briefing before their dive.

She paid close attention, too.

There was no room for refusal. Diving wasn't just some casual fun-it demanded caution and respect.

Lysander, experienced as ever, noticed her anxious expression and leaned in with a reassuring whisper, "Don't worry. The spot we're going to isn't deep at all. Even

if you've never dived before, you'll be fine—I'll look after you."

-It's precisely because you're here that I can't relax!

"Coach, is it really not deep?" Mila asked, unable to hide her concern.

Their instructor, a burly, cheerful man with a booming laugh, grinned at her. "Trust me, the deepest point is only about thirty feet, but most of the time you'll be just twelve or fifteen feet down. The scenery down there is incredible-lots of couples come to experience it. Don't let your nerves make you miss out."

"We're not a couple. We barely know each other. I was dragged here," Mila protested.

Lysander smiled and added, "She's right. We're not a couple. We're married." "Divorced!" Mila shot back.

The coach just laughed, apparently convinced they were bickering spouses, and left it at that.

With her questions answered and reassured that professionals would be keeping watch from above, Mila finally relaxed. Once they were suited up in their wetsuits and gear, Lysander took her hand and led her toward the ocean.

The waves lapped eagerly at her feet.

She hesitated, just for a heartbeat-then the man at her side gently pulled her beneath the surface, into the sunlit shallows.

Her eyes widened instantly.

Awe. Pure, wordless awe.

What was she seeing?

was crystal clear, sunlight pouring straight through to illuminate the sea floor. Beneath them, not far

in her waterproof headset: the

Pompeii. This is Baiae, the most famous underwater archaeological park near Naples, submerged long ago by volcanic activity and earthquakes. In its prime, it was a retreat for Roman nobles.

stared in amazement, Lysander gently steered her closer to the ruins. The instructor's voice continued in

many

And she did.

human figures, statues worn smooth by centuries, strands of seaweed drifting from shoulders and arms. The outlines were clear, the details almost eerily preserved. Shafts of sunlight filtered down through the

into Atlantis-majestic, mysterious, utterly

drifted through this submerged dreamscape, Lysander's hand in hers, weaving between darting fish and circling statues. They moved effortlessly, as if dancing through the

Unlike anything she'd ever

while, they surfaced and swam back toward the shore. Mila was still lost in wonder, barely noticing Lysander gently remove her mask and cradle her face, his lips brushing softly against her cheek, then her

wet hair, drawing her into another embrace. He had, at last,

calm water, they kissed-while far

Past and present, intertwined.

witnessed

***

uncharacteristically quiet on the way to the

vessel set a

Destination: Rome.

entire afternoon on deck, basking in the golden sun, tablet

too magnificent not to be

just ask me, you

cabin, Lysander set a glass of fresh lemonade beside her and

didn't look at him,

her distance from Lysander-preferably without exchanging another word. She knew all too well that if Lysander really set his mind to