Novel Becoming strangers again (Lily and Ryan) has been published to Chapter 163 with new, unexpected details. It can be said that the author Internet invested in Becoming strangers again (Lily and Ryan) with great dedication. After reading Chapter 163, I felt sad, yet gentle and very deeply moved. Let's read Chapter 163 and the next chapters of the Becoming strangers again (Lily and Ryan) series at Good Novel Online now.
LILY
Monday arrived far too quickly, sweeping away the weekend and thrusting me back into the demands of my life in Canada. There, responsibilities waited impatiently—my job, my sons’ sports practices, and their academics. Every part of me felt the pull to be elsewhere, to stay by my husband’s side, battling against the woman who dared to call herself his sister. The sterile hallways of the hospital only reminded me of where I didn’t want to be.
The sound of a familiar voice jolted me from my thoughts. “Did you decline because of him?”
I stopped in my tracks, taking a moment to breathe, trying to ease the irritation that was already brewing inside me. Turning slowly, I forced a smile as I faced Amell. “No, I didn’t decline because of my husband,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “I declined because I could, and because I wanted to.”
He took a step closer, slipping his hands into his pockets and studying me with a knowing gaze. “You’re forcing that smile,” he observed, his tone almost gentle but piercingly accurate. “Which tells me you’d rather be anywhere else than standing here talking to me.”
I raised an eyebrow, fixing him with a sharp look. “Not everything is about you, Amell,” I said, my voice tight with irritation. “I’m sure you’ve been following the news and have seen the madness my family’s been dealing with. Don’t you think that’s enough to make me lose interest in someone who just stands around whining?”
I fully expected him to get angry at my bluntness, maybe even walk away in a huff. But instead, he tilted his head slightly, studying me. “You’re bottled up,” he said calmly, a strange softness in his tone.
I blinked, momentarily thrown. “I beg your pardon?”
“Maybe,” he continued, unbothered by my reaction, “I should have a meal with your husband and let him know I’m not his enemy—and that I’m definitely not interested in his wife.”
A headache was beginning to pulse at my temples, and I fought the urge to rub them right in front of him. I took a deep breath, gathering the last of my patience. “Amell, listen. I have a lot on my plate right now, and honestly,” I said, licking my lips as I pointed toward his feet, “you really shouldn’t be putting pressure on that leg by standing for so long.”
He shifted his weight onto his crutches with a casual shrug. “I’m fine.”
He wouldn’t be fine for long if he kept putting pressure on that leg, though. “What are you even doing here, Amell?” I asked, crossing my arms. After all, I was the one who’d signed off his leave, and he wasn’t supposed to be back at work until next month.
A faint smirk crossed his face. “I was bored. And Jessica just got back to work today, so I figured I’d come down here.”
“Suit yourself,” I replied, my tone indifferent as I looked past him. That’s when I noticed the security guard who’d accompanied me, standing a few steps behind Amell. His expression was serious, maybe even tense, and it made my stomach tighten. Something was wrong. “Are you alright?” I asked, concern slipping into my voice.
He shook his head, looking uneasy. “Ma’am, I really need to speak with you.”
I nodded, gesturing toward my office. “Come on in.” If nothing else, I was grateful for the distraction, even if it brought more tension to my day.
As the guard walked past Amell and into my office, I felt a little guilty for how curt I’d been with him. Glancing back at Amell, I softened slightly. “Please, take it easy on that leg,” I said quietly.
“I’ll do that if you promise to take it easy on yourself too,” he bargained, a gentle smile on his face.
“I will,” I assured him.
He nodded, still smiling, before turning to head toward the elevator. I watched him maneuver with his crutches, a part of me wanting to offer help, but I held back, letting him be. He disappeared as the elevator doors closed.
When I stepped into my office, I found Fred seated, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. It struck me as strange, and I quickly glanced at the thermostat to make sure the room wasn’t too warm. “Are you okay?” I asked, my concern growing.
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