Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 401

“How’s today’s work?”

Mila lifted her veil.

Lounging in the soft chair, the woman was all but swathed in gold silk—her figure bathed in sunlight, shrouded in an aura of sanctity and mystery. No one could make out her features, but Mila saw right through her. It was the same as always: Felicity, all false affection and empty warmth.

If her love was real,

then why was she suffering?

Mila scraped a bit of black and red paint onto her palette, blending them until she’d created a deep, haunting crimson. Dipping her brush, she painted a lifelike black-red rose right onto the woman’s golden veil. Suddenly, the entire image—once so pure—was tinged with something eerie.

A man’s low chuckle broke the silence.

“I knew you’d like those roses,” he said, sounding genuinely pleased. “I had the lab working for ages to cultivate the perfect black-red rose, just for you. I thought they’d make the perfect flowers for our wedding—what do you say?”

“….”

A wedding?

He was seriously still going on about that?

Mila was speechless. She wanted to slap him, but… well, she didn’t dare. If she woke him from this delusion, she’d be the one to suffer.

Please let him just be talking nonsense—he couldn’t possibly be in his right mind.

“My darling,”

He took her hand, pressing a gentle kiss onto her knuckles through the golden veil. “You still owe me a wedding. I’ve been waiting for so long.”

Mila gritted her teeth.

Could he stop bringing that up? What did any of this have to do with her, anyway?

Total disaster.

After that, Mila had zero appetite for the rest of the picnic. She trudged back to the old manor, barely touched her dinner, and spent the whole night tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

All night, she kept repeating to herself: Let this just be a passing whim. Please, don’t let him actually go through with it.

The next day, her hopes were dashed.

……

Mila stood there, face blank, arms outstretched as the seamstress took her measurements. Apparently, they were making her a wedding dress.

She was on the verge of losing it.

Why was this happening?

Could this lunatic come to his senses for once? She wasn’t the one he wanted—couldn’t he use his brain?

She was going to lose her mind.

But here, in this manor, she had less say than anyone else. Refusing was out of the question.

From that day on, Cossio suddenly got busy. He was hardly ever around.

Normally, that would’ve been a blessing. But with the wedding looming, Mila could find no relief.

She was doomed.

After two more sleepless nights, Mila finally snapped. She decided she had to talk to Cossio—this marriage nonsense had to stop. No matter the reason, she could not agree to this. Absolutely not.

She ate a decent dinner, then waited in her room until it got late. After rehearsing what she’d say a dozen times, she draped her veil over her face, crossed the hallway, and made her way to the master bedroom upstairs. She knocked on the door.

No answer.

She knocked again, and again—still nothing.