Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 427

Hymns drifted through the air.

In Rome, churches were everywhere. Step outside, and it wasn’t long before you heard the soaring voices of a choir from a nearby chapel, the melody drawing crowds.

They climbed the long stone steps, entering a church that blended Romanesque and Gothic styles. Intricate carvings adorned the walls, and even masterpieces of Renaissance frescoes could be glimpsed between the arches. At the center, a couple stood together, radiant with happiness. Their families gathered in the front rows; tourists and sightseers formed a respectful circle around them, everyone hushed as if under a spell.

Beneath the soaring hymn, the priest spoke.

Mila watched the bride and groom, transfixed by their joy. She saw tears in their eyes as they said “I do,” then watched as they embraced and shared their first kiss as husband and wife.

The priest pronounced them married.

Applause broke out from everyone—family and strangers alike—bearing witness as two young people joined hands at the start of their new life. In that moment, it was as if happiness could last forever.

The hymn echoed, ethereal and haunting.

Lost in thought, Mila was startled by the gentle warmth of a man’s voice at her ear. “Darling, remember that bread I queued for this morning? They say it’s the local engagement bread.”

Engagement bread.

So that’s why he’d made the effort to buy it.

But if they were only pretending, why make it feel so real? Why did he act as if he truly cared? Mila’s gaze drifted from the newlyweds as they clung to each other, and she turned to look at Lysander. Her eyes were calm, unexpectedly soft.

She said, “Then I refuse.”

Suddenly, she remembered how their marriage had begun in utter despair—how it had started with a storm and a breakdown, with no ceremony, no proposal.

She wondered—

If someone ever proposed to her, if that man were Lysander, there would only ever be one answer.

—I refuse.

Lysander studied her serene face.

He stood there for a long time. The hymn finally faded; the just-married couple laughed and ran past, hand in hand, the bride’s dress billowing like a cloud. In that fleeting moment, Lysander bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to Mila’s forehead.

“It’s all right,” he murmured.

“We’re already husband and wife.”

...

As they left the church, Lysander never once let go of her hand. Mila tried, half-heartedly, to free herself, but he held on too tightly, so she gave up.

Suddenly, she felt exhausted—too tired to speak.

She let him lead her through the streets. The sun was setting, painting the sky with crimson clouds, as they found themselves standing before a vast and ancient ruin.

The Roman Colosseum.

One of the seven wonders of the world.

It was closed to the public at this hour—Lysander must have arranged it ahead of time. The heavy iron gates swung open, welcoming just the two of them.

They climbed the stone steps,

And soon stood at the very top, looking out over half of Rome, as if perched at the peak of the world.

For a moment, Mila felt dizzy.

Beneath her feet lay a thousand years of history. The wind brushed her face, and her chest rose and fell as she imagined the roars of wild beasts, the cries of men, the ancient blood and thunder that had once shaken this place. The Colosseum had witnessed it all: gladiators, carnage, the roar of the crowd.

She looked down at Rome’s grandeur—awed, shaken.

Her heart pounded.