Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 24

**TITLE: Unwritten Feelings Drift by Austen**
**Chapter 24: Left Behind in the Dark**

Ayla’s gaze, devoid of any spark, remained fixated on Troy as he drove away.

If only he had cast a glance back, he would have seen her vulnerability, like a forsaken kitten, trembling in the chill of the night, her eyes filled with unspoken sorrow and a heart heavy with despair.

But he didn’t. He simply averted his gaze and pressed down on the accelerator. In an instant, his car disappeared into the enveloping darkness.

The shadows around her seemed to consume her entirely. Ayla stood there, a fragile figure against the biting wind, feeling utterly alone.

A sudden, sharp pain erupted in her head, causing her to flinch as if a bolt of lightning had struck her. She fought against the spiraling panic that threatened to overtake her, confronting the harsh reality—he had really left her behind.

The night stretched out before her, an impenetrable black void. Strange rustlings echoed from the trees, and her mind raced with the chilling murder stories she had seen splashed across the news.

Fear clawed at her chest, tightening like a vice. With trembling hands, she fumbled for her phone, desperately trying to activate the flashlight. Her fingers, stiff and numb from the cold, almost let the device slip from her grasp. Finally, the light flickered to life, illuminating her path, and without a second thought, Ayla sprinted toward the estate.

Her legs propelled her forward with a speed that surprised her, a flicker of gratitude coursing through her veins for the strength to run, even in her weakened state.

By the time she reached the yard, her lungs felt as if they were on fire, her body was ice-cold, and her heart raced so violently it seemed ready to burst from her chest.

Gripping the gate, she gasped for breath, her body still reeling from the adrenaline.

The frantic rhythm of her heart left no room for coherent thought—until a glimmer caught her eye.

A light shone from the second floor, emanating from one of the guest rooms.

Draven’s room.

In the oppressive darkness, any flicker of light became a beacon, and Ayla found herself unable to tear her gaze away.

She stood there, attempting to steady her erratic breathing, contemplating whether she should sneak back to her own room or linger a moment longer.

Deep down, Ayla sensed she was on the verge of succumbing to illness. If she didn’t take her medication soon, she would surely be bedridden by morning.

But the thought of asking Lincoln for help felt like an insurmountable hurdle.

Tomorrow, she would undoubtedly be sick.

All she wanted was to escape, to leave this place behind and return home—anywhere but here.

Yet she had arrived without a car.

And calling a cab to navigate the winding roads of the mountain in the dead of night? Utterly impossible.

The realization hit her like a crashing wave, dragging her into a pit of despair.

Just then, the light in the guest room extinguished.

Whether Draven had turned in for the night or remained awake was irrelevant to her.

Yet, the weight of everything that had transpired settled heavily upon her shoulders. Ayla felt her emotions fracture like glass. Silent, scalding tears streamed down her cheeks.

Leaning against the doorframe, she allowed herself to cry quietly, enveloped in her solitude.

And tears, no matter how relentless they feel, always find a way to dry up. Especially in the frigid, unforgiving darkness of night.

Ayla wept until her body trembled from the cold.

Finally, wiping her tears away, she surrendered to the reality of her situation and turned back.

As she raised her head, a tall, imposing figure suddenly blocked her path.

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