Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 342

After New Year’s Eve,

A strange, gentle equilibrium settled between them.

Mila stopped going near the darkened room; Lysander no longer swept her into his arms to tease or torment. They began to resemble any ordinary couple—perhaps even a married pair—sharing a bed, murmuring good morning and good night, eating together, reading side by side, and drifting through endless conversations.

It was a rare, fragile peace.

But one thing hadn’t changed: Mila still wasn’t allowed to leave the villa.

Whenever she brought it up, Lysander always had a fresh excuse—he couldn’t bear to let her out of his sight, he worried for her safety, someone out there meant her harm. His reasons grew stranger the more she pressed. And if she insisted, a look would flicker across his face—one that frightened her into silence every time.

Eventually, Mila’s days blurred together. She grew sluggish, always tired, appetite fading, energy draining away. She leaned on Lysander more and more, until even the desire to go outside slipped away.

She wilted, day by day.

One afternoon, not long after lunch, drowsiness dragged her into sleep. Lysander quietly called in the family doctor.

“Mr. Montgomery, the young lady is pregnant. Judging from her condition, nearly two months along now.”

“Mr. Montgomery?”

Lysander jolted, as if waking from a trance.

He looked lost for a moment, then drew a slow, shaky breath, questioning the doctor over and over until the man nearly lost patience. Only when assured that everything was progressing smoothly did Lysander finally relax.

Before the doctor left, Lysander sent Leonard to quietly remind him to keep this visit discreet.

The doctor had always attended to his mother and was known for his skill, but bringing him here meant Lysander’s father would inevitably find out. The family couldn’t know—not yet.

Once the doctor was gone, Lysander lay down beside Mila, gathering her gently into his arms. Half-asleep, she instinctively curled closer.

She was carrying his child.

Their child.

The timing was all wrong, but it was also perfect—an unexpected turning point.

He needed this child.

…

Lysander told Mila nothing about the pregnancy. About a week later, early one morning, he left.

Before he went, he kissed her sleeping cheek.

“This time, please, don’t let me down.”

He’d taken so many steps toward her. Now, it had to be Mila who came to him.

When Mila woke, she called out for Lysander—but there was only silence.

She sat bolt upright, her heart pounding. Thinking he might be in another room, she slipped on her slippers and padded through the house, searching each familiar corner. But the villa was empty.

He was gone.