Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 437

April 5

After wrapping up work at the company, Mila made a stop at the cemetery before heading home to see Felicity.

Thunderheads loomed overhead, casting the world in gray.

She came alone, without her usual retinue. Stepping out of the car, Mila walked in by herself, a small bouquet of white flowers in hand. She placed them gently at the gravestone, lingered for a silent moment, then knelt to wipe the dust from the black-and-white photograph embedded in the granite. The man in the photo stared back with fox-sharp eyes, a touch of cruelty in his smile. Her own face remained impassive.

“I’m a day late,” she murmured.

Yesterday had been the Day of Remembrance. She hadn’t come—had deliberately waited until today.

Her voice softened as she continued, “You were late so many times in my life. Always showing up after I needed you. So now I’m a little late too. And next year, maybe later still. One day... I’ll just stop coming. If that makes you mad, well, you’ll just have to bear it.”

But then again—

Even if you are angry, I’d never know.

Straightening up, Mila let a faint, rueful smile curve her lips. “I’m leaving now. Maybe I’ll see you next year. Or maybe not. The paths here are hard to walk, the April air so damp... and after all, the living need me more. I hope you understand.”

As she finished, her smile faded a little.

Annoyed at her own sudden sentimentality, Mila shook her head and turned away, walking out of the cemetery. She had gone quite far before a tall figure stepped silently from the trees behind the grave, one strong hand resting on the cold stone.

His long black coat billowed in the wind.

...

Montgomery Manor

Mila pushed open the glass door to the conservatory and found her mother tending to the plants inside, a small trowel in hand. The iciness Mila wore in boardrooms melted away at the sight. Her steps were heavy with affection as she called out softly when the woman turned toward her:

“Mom.”

“Mila! You’re back!”

Felicity’s face lit up with a childlike joy. Dropping the trowel, she rushed forward, not caring about the dirt on her hands.

Thanks to the rigorous workouts Mila had kept up since the incident on the island a year ago, she caught her mother with steady arms. Nuzzling into Felicity’s neck, she whispered, “Mom, I came home to see you.”

They held each other for a long moment before Mila gently released her, studying Felicity’s increasingly pale face. “How have you been feeling lately?” she asked softly.

It was a relief, Mila thought, that Conrad had managed to keep things under wraps. He controlled every aspect of Felicity’s outings and her contact with others, somehow keeping Lysander’s death a secret for a whole year. Even now, Felicity didn’t know. But her mental state had grown ever more unstable—some days she was lively and full of energy, others she slept for days, unable to wake. Today, at least, she seemed bright.

“I’m doing so well!” Felicity beamed.