Return, My Love: Wooing the Neglected Ex-Wife

Chapter 892:

“When you called me from the detention center, you talked about going to study overseas.”

A small, wistful smile played on Dulce’s lips. “Don’t hold it against me. I’m still young, and life has so much more in store for me.”

Michael inhaled deeply, bracing himself to voice the query that had been gnawing at him. “Was it Fiona who pushed you into this? Did she coerce you into making that call to me?”

Dulce regarded Michael with a silent, thoughtful stare. He was strikingly attractive, but she wasn’t sure if Michael would still look the same in a few years.

Despite the seriousness of their conversation, she couldn’t help but marvel at her own positivity. Even now, she found room for seemingly trivial thoughts.

Compared to Michael’s parents being reported to the authorities or Michael once again sinking into sad and lonely nights, her departure seemed a mere trifle. His affection for her hadn’t burrowed that deep, after all.

It wasn’t so much that she cut her losses; rather, she recognized the right moment to step back.

By moving overseas, she could escape her legal troubles.

Wasn’t her own future more vital than her relationship with Michael? Dulce averted her face, hiding the tears that welled up, unwilling to let Michael witness her vulnerability.

“So what if it was? We’ve been ensnared by Fiona from the start, and nothing’s going to change that, right? Besides, she’s just lost her son. As long as she plays the bereaved mother, she’ll have a throng of sympathizers online. And if she labels me the home-wrecker? I’ll be swamped with hatred. Are you prepared to defend me?”

“I’ll make sure that never happens.”

“Michael, I appreciate your concern; that’s enough for me. Don’t try to fix this. Just promise to find happiness, quit those solitary late-night cigarettes, eat properly, and don’t let loneliness consume you. That would bring me peace.”

With a clenched jaw, Michael slammed on the brakes, pulling Dulce into a reassuring embrace. “Just give me a little time, Dulce. I’ll sort everything out.”noveldrama

Dulce offered no verbal response, merely giving Michael’s back a comforting pat. “Drive. I’m hungry. I want to eat the meal you make.”

They made their way back. He cooked, and they dined together, later nestling into each other’s arms as they watched TV. The evening drew on, cloaked in persistent rain.

An empty wine bottle rested on the coffee table, while sporadic flashes of lightning illuminated the room.

Snuggled under a cozy blanket, Dulce leaned into Michael, her body a curve of contentment.

At one point, she drained the last drops of wine and offered them to Michael.

After that intimate exchange, the television faded into the background. Michael swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving noticeably as he embraced Dulce’s waist, savoring the wine from her lips.

They began to sway, slightly tipsy, their movements reminiscent of leaves fluttering in a breeze.

.

.

.