Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 438

Chapter 432

"Ma'am."

A man's familiar voice echoed through the haze of her mind. Mila blinked, her

eyelids heavy, her vision flooded with harsh, sterile white. The curtains fluttered in the gentle breeze.

She was lying in a hospital bed.

Slowly, Mila sat upright, glancing around. No one was there. The room was silent but for her own breathing, and her memories began to drift back.

It all came flooding in.

She and Lysander had gone to that party.

Then-gunshots.

Her fingers tightened, clutching the crisp white sheets, twisting them into creases. She remembered—so much blood. No matter how desperately she pressed, nothing could stop it. The body beneath her trembling hands had gone cold, growing steadily, impossibly cold.

Suddenly, the door swung open.

"Ma'am, you're awake."

Leonard hurried in, catching sight of her sitting on the bed, dazed and silent. He rushed closer, concern etching his features. "Are you feeling any pain? Is there anything wrong?"

He pressed the call button for the nurse.

Mila shook her head, slow and deliberate.

It was strange. She didn't seem to feel anything-not pain, not sorrow, not even relief. Mostly, it was a hollow, surreal detachment, as if everything she saw and heard was muffled by an invisible layer of water.

Everything was blurred.

Wait-right before she lost consciousness, she'd seen Francis, and Leonard... Did they make it? Were they safe?

She tried to speak, to ask.

"Ah..."

escaped her lips. Mila froze, shock rooting her in place. It took her a long moment to realize—she couldn't talk. No

tightened with

he dashed out, returning moments

shook his head. "This is a case of psychological muteness. Medication won't help. Only time and her own mind- can resolve

silence

taken over. She suppressed the instinct to speak and gestured for her phone. With trembling fingers, she typed a message

*How is he?*

grew taut, his

gust of wind caught the curtains, sending them billowing against the white- washed walls. It was a long time before Leonard finally found his voice, hoarse and strained. "Ma'am, I'm sorry. He...

*Gone?*

unable to meet Mila's blank, searching gaze. His fists clenched at

Funeral?

So, he was dead?

Really dead?

through her limbs, dragging her down until she collapsed back onto the bed.

He's gone.

bed, gripping the edge so tightly his knuckles turned white, fighting

it came,

broken.

okay to cry. Don't hold it

Don't look like that.

her, deceiving her, using her, hurting her... arrogant,

Why should she grieve?

didn't feel happy. She felt... nothing at all. Or maybe not nothing-just

wanted to

A few days later.

home, clad in a simple black dress. She cradled a pale marble urn in her hands, face expressionless,

yet, inside, she

was in the end, everyone ended up the same. Just a handful of ashes, indistinguishable from

Still...

phone and showed it to Leonard, who

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