Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 19

**TITLE: Unwritten Feelings Drift by Austen 19**
**CONTENT:**
**Chapter 19: A Taboo**

As the minutes dragged on, Ayla could feel the chill seeping into her bones, her hands and feet growing numb from the biting cold. The night was still, the air thick with an uneasy silence that only amplified her growing anxiety.

Yet, Troy’s car was nowhere to be seen.

She had no alternative but to endure the wait, her heart sinking with each passing second.

Just as her hope began to wane, a pair of headlights pierced through the thin veil of fog that clung to the mountain. She squinted into the darkness, trying to discern the vehicle’s make.

It was a Bentley.

Troy drove a sleek Maybach, and this was definitely not him.

Ayla felt a twinge of disappointment wash over her, perhaps intensified by the cold that seemed to wrap around her like a heavy blanket. She had been counting on Troy’s punctuality, a flicker of hope that now transformed into a dull ache in her chest.

With a sigh, she glanced down at her phone, the screen illuminating her face in the dim light.

Suddenly, the sound of tires crunching on gravel broke her reverie.

Curiosity piqued, Ayla looked up just in time to see a car pull over. The window slid down, revealing the sharp profile of a man.

He turned to face her, and in that instant, her breath caught in her throat.

Her eyes locked onto a pair of deep, inscrutable ones—Draven.

Time seemed to freeze, the world around her fading into a blur as his presence filled the space between them.

“Need a ride?” His voice was low, smooth, and somehow unsettling.

Ayla felt a jolt of panic.

Three years ago, their first encounter had left her with a chill that lingered long after they parted ways.

Yesterday, their brief, unexpected meetings had only solidified that impression, deepening her discomfort.

For the first time, she felt genuine fear in the presence of another.

What could he possibly want? Why was he offering her a lift now?

Perhaps it was an act of kindness, but the heavy aura that surrounded him felt threatening, like a storm brewing just out of sight.

Her instincts screamed at her to retreat.

“Thanks, but no. I’m waiting for someone,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt.

Draven remained silent, his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he drove away, the Bentley disappearing into the night.

As the chill of the evening enveloped her once more, a gust of wind swept past, causing her to shiver involuntarily.

Just then, Troy’s car finally arrived, almost ten minutes late.

He didn’t even spare her a glance as he pulled up beside her, his demeanor as distant as ever.

Troy had a peculiar way of ignoring her presence, as if she were merely a shadow in his life.

With a quiet resignation, Ayla walked around to the passenger side, opened the door, and slid into the seat, fastening her seatbelt with a sense of foreboding.

The car began its ascent up the mountain, the silence between them thick and palpable. Ayla refrained from attempting small talk, a habit she had once indulged in to fill the void.

Draven had spent years abroad, and during that time, Troy had never once mentioned him. The fragments of knowledge Ayla possessed came from family dinners with Eric Winston, who had a penchant for comparing his two sons, always favoring the older one.

Three years ago, when Troy had ascended to the presidency of the Winston Group, Eric still insisted that Troy was no match for Draven.

If Eric could dismiss Troy now, at the pinnacle of his career, Ayla could only imagine the harsh words Troy had endured as a child.

Troy was a proud man, and the constant comparisons had left deep scars. His resentment toward Draven had festered over the years, a wound that would not easily heal.

Whenever Draven’s name came up, Troy’s mood soured, and he would retreat further into himself.

He avoided Draven whenever possible; if it weren’t for Martin, he likely wouldn’t have returned to the estate at all.

Ayla spoke honestly, “I don’t really know him.”

Troy already knew that, and the truth hung heavy between them.

Her lack of closeness with Draven was evident; Troy’s question had stemmed more from his own concerns than any interest in her life.

As the car rolled up to the estate, Ayla stepped out alongside Troy.

In the past, she would have seized the opportunity to slip her arm through his, creating an illusion of intimacy for Martin’s sake.

Troy had never been fond of such displays, but out of respect for his grandfather, he had played along.

Those moments had been precious to her, cherished fragments of a dream she had clung to.

But tonight was different. Tonight, she was merely here to put on a performance in front of Martin until she could finally secure her divorce certificate. All her old hopes and wishes had long since faded away.

Determinedly, she walked ahead, quickening her pace to put distance between herself and Troy.