After the Last Tear: Rising from the Ashes of a Broken Marriage novel Chapter 61

"What are you watching?"

Pax slipped his arms around me from behind, his breath warm against my skin. A featherlight kiss landed on my earlobe, sending a shiver down my spine.

His gaze shifted to my phone screen.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, with a low chuckle, he reached up and covered my eyes. "Don't watch that… it's embarrassing."

The video kept playing.

On the screen, Pax was in a ballet dress, balancing on tiptoes, spinning in wobbly circles. His movements were clumsy, awkward. But his expression—so focused, so serious—made my chest tighten.

My throat felt dry.

"Was it worth it?" I asked softly.

He had gone this far—putting on a dress, performing ballet, throwing away his pride—all to earn enough to buy me a measly $10 apple cake.

Was it really worth it?

"Of course it was."

He answered without hesitation, his voice lazy, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

"This is nothing."

"When I make real money one day, I'll buy you designer bags. The kind that cost a hundred grand."

He paused after saying that, as if something had just occurred to him.

I clenched my fingers into a fist. But on my face, there was still only a soft smile.

"Alright," I said.

We lived in a cramped, rundown apartment in the heart of the city slums.

The room was so small that once the bed was in, there was barely space for anything else.

A hundred grand.

It sounded like a figure from another world, impossibly out of reach.

And yet, today—I had heard it twice.

Pax didn't know that I had been there that night, watching his performance from the crowd.

I was dressed in a clumsy, oversized Santa Claus suit, my face hidden beneath a tangled mess of cheap synthetic white hair. The glue used to stick it on must have been low-quality—I felt an itch creeping across my skin, and soon, red splotches broke out along my jawline.

The event coordinator took one look at me and told me to head backstage to clean up.

That was when I passed by a room with its door left slightly ajar.

And I heard his voice.

His laugh was careless. "What could she possibly do about it?"

I stood frozen outside the door.

So he had been faking it all along.

The struggle, the sacrifices—the nights spent in our cramped little apartment, pretending we were scraping by together.

And seven days from now, he was planning to end things.

I thought I would storm in and slap him across the face.

But I didn't.

I turned and walked away, heading back to the room I was supposed to be in.

Facing the mirror, I slowly peeled off the cheap white hair. The glue had irritated my skin, leaving my chin swollen and sore.

I stared at my reflection—at the ridiculous red patches, the remnants of that awful costume.

Then, suddenly, I laughed.Pax didn't know that I had been lying to him, too.I once promised that I would love him forever.But when it came down to a choice between my future and him—I had never planned to choose him.

My plane ticket was already booked.

Departure date—ironically—seven days from now.