Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 25

**TITLE: Unwritten Feelings Drift by Austen**
**Chapter 25: A Cold Neighbor**

Draven sat in the passenger seat, his expression a mask of calm that was unsettling. Unlike most people who would feel a flush of embarrassment when caught in the act of staring, he remained unfazed, his gaze fixed on Ayla with an intensity that was both captivating and unnerving. His dark eyes held a depth that seemed to pierce through her, a silent pressure that felt almost tangible, settling heavily in the air between them.

Ayla felt a rush of heat creep up her cheeks, as if she had been scorched by an invisible flame. It was unbearable. She quickly averted her eyes, focusing her attention straight ahead, as if the dashboard could somehow provide her with solace from his unwavering stare.

After a few agonizing seconds, she managed to whisper, “Sorry,” her voice barely above a breath.

Silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating, as Draven offered no reply.

Finally, the weight of his gaze lifted, and Ayla seized the opportunity to sneak a glance into the rearview mirror. To her surprise, Draven had reclined back in his seat, his eyes now closed, giving the impression that he had drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

The journey from the estate to Westhaven’s garage was enveloped in an almost eerie quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the engine. Neither of them spoke a word, leaving the air thick with unspoken thoughts.

With Troy, the silence had always felt like a heavy blanket stifling her, but with Draven, it was different—more intense, yet somehow not as oppressive. There was an undercurrent of something unnameable, a tension that hummed just beneath the surface.

Before long, the car pulled into the garage.

Draven appeared to be in a deep sleep, and Ayla felt a strange reluctance to disturb him. Yet, a wave of discomfort washed over her; she needed to get home, take some cold medicine, and crawl into bed. There was no other option but to rouse him.

“Mr. Storm, we’re here,” she called out, her voice firm yet tinged with hesitation.

No response came, his eyes still shut tight.

“Mr. S—” she began again, but as if sensing her urgency, Draven opened his eyes. Their gazes locked, and for a fleeting moment, Ayla was caught in the depths of his dark irises, which were now wide awake, devoid of any hint of sleep.

Had he really been asleep the entire ride?

Ayla swallowed hard, the words she had planned to say evaporating from her mind. “We’re here,” she managed to state, her voice steadier than she felt.

The elevator ride to the top floor was brief, yet it felt like an eternity, both of them lost in their own thoughts. They stepped out together, each accessing their respective apartments with the touch of their fingerprints.

Before she crossed the threshold into her own space, Ayla turned to him, her voice polite but laced with a hint of uncertainty. “Good night.”

Draven had already opened his door but lingered in the doorway, his expression unreadable, his gaze unyielding as he stared at her.

Ayla felt her heart race.

The car keys had already been returned. Was he expecting her to thank him again? Or was there something more he wanted to convey?

After a brief moment of silence that felt like an eternity, she slipped off her coat, folding it neatly in her arms, and took a step closer to him.

Draven’s eyes tracked her movements. “Toss it to me,” he commanded, his tone flat.

Instead of complying, she approached him and handed it over directly. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, her voice soft yet firm.

He accepted the coat, turned, and closed the door with a definitive click, leaving Ayla standing there, momentarily stunned.

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