Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 432

“Ma’am.”

A man’s familiar voice echoed through the haze of her mind. Mila blinked, her eyelids heavy, her vision flooded with harsh, sterile white. The curtains fluttered in the gentle breeze.

She was lying in a hospital bed.

Slowly, Mila sat upright, glancing around. No one was there. The room was silent but for her own breathing, and her memories began to drift back.

It all came flooding in.

She and Lysander had gone to that party.

Then—gunshots.

Her fingers tightened, clutching the crisp white sheets, twisting them into creases. She remembered—so much blood. No matter how desperately she pressed, nothing could stop it. The body beneath her trembling hands had gone cold, growing steadily, impossibly cold.

Suddenly, the door swung open.

“Ma’am, you’re awake.”

Leonard hurried in, catching sight of her sitting on the bed, dazed and silent. He rushed closer, concern etching his features. “Are you feeling any pain? Is there anything wrong?”

He pressed the call button for the nurse.

Mila shook her head, slow and deliberate.

It was strange. She didn’t seem to feel anything—not pain, not sorrow, not even relief. Mostly, it was a hollow, surreal detachment, as if everything she saw and heard was muffled by an invisible layer of water.

Everything was blurred.

Wait—right before she lost consciousness, she’d seen Francis, and Leonard… Did they make it? Were they safe?

She tried to speak, to ask.

“Ah…”

But only a broken, breathless sound escaped her lips. Mila froze, shock rooting her in place. It took her a long moment to realize—she couldn’t talk. No sound would come out.

Her chest tightened with frustration.

Leonard noticed something was wrong. Forgetting the call button, he dashed out, returning moments later with a doctor in tow.

After a quick examination, the doctor shook his head. “This is a case of psychological muteness. Medication won’t help. Only time—and her own mind—can resolve it. Try to keep her emotions steady. Let things run their course, and she’ll likely recover.”

Once the doctor left, silence settled over the room.

At first, Mila had panicked, but now a strange sense of calm had taken over. She suppressed the instinct to speak and gestured for her phone. With trembling fingers, she typed a message for Leonard.

*How is he?*

Leonard’s face grew taut, his expression unreadable.

A gust of wind caught the curtains, sending them billowing against the white-washed walls. It was a long time before Leonard finally found his voice, hoarse and strained. “Ma’am, I’m sorry. He… he’s gone.”

*Gone?*

Leonard turned away, unable to meet Mila’s blank, searching gaze. His fists clenched at his sides. “The funeral… it’s in a few days.”

Funeral?