Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 32

**TITLE: Unwritten Feelings Drift by Austen**
**Chapter 32: Blocked**

In stark contrast to her own feelings of uncertainty, everyone surrounding Skyla was acutely aware of her presence and significance. She was a figure of intrigue, a name that drew whispers and glances, each person holding their own opinion about her.

Bria, her irritation bubbling over, snapped back, “A dog is still a dog. Who else could it possibly be?” The biting edge in her voice betrayed her growing frustration, a simmering anger that seemed to fuel her every word.

Renee, observing the tension, finally grasped the dynamics at play. This woman, Skyla, clearly did not mesh well with Bria, and the last thing she wanted was to stir the pot further. “Let’s just go to a different shop,” she suggested, her tone light as she tried to defuse the situation.

Yet, as Bria continued to mull over the interaction, her anger intensified, spiraling into a resolve that felt almost palpable. No way was she going to let this slide. Tonight, she would confront her brother, make a scene if necessary, and ensure that Ayla understood her place. The thought of it brought a fierce determination to her heart.

However, that confrontation would have to wait until evening; Troy was currently away from home, leaving her in a state of restless anticipation.

Meanwhile, Ayla stood at Draven’s door, her fingers dancing over the keypad as she punched in six “1”s. With a soft click, the lock surrendered, revealing an apartment that felt both foreign and oddly familiar. It dawned on her that the password must have been the default—an oversight on Draven’s part, perhaps, or maybe a testament to his trust in her.

Westhaven, the property where she now found herself, was a coveted piece of riverfront real estate in central Trensea. It was renowned online, celebrated for its cutting-edge security systems, making any unauthorized entry nearly impossible. From the main gate to the front door, there were layers of checkpoints, a fortress that felt impenetrable.

As she stepped inside, a sudden realization struck Ayla. This task had been handed to her not out of necessity but sheer convenience for Draven. With a sigh, she made a quick detour to her own place, grabbing a clean pair of shoe covers before entering the apartment next door.

The layout mirrored her own, yet Draven’s space was devoid of personality. While her apartment embraced a minimalist aesthetic, his was stripped down to its bare essentials—large blocks of black, white, and gray dominated the space, devoid of any signs of life or warmth. It was as if the place had been designed for a photo shoot rather than for living.

In the living room, ten or more tightly sealed boxes loomed, a clear indication that he had just moved in. Ayla felt a pang of sympathy. He truly had no roots here yet.

She rummaged through the kitchen drawers until she found a pair of scissors. With careful precision, she unwrapped the glass cups and placed them on the display shelf, trying to inject a hint of life into the starkness surrounding her.

Yet, even after her efforts, the apartment still felt empty. Would Draven ever fill this space with memories, or would it remain a cold shell, untouched and unadorned?

When she glanced at the clock, it was only two in the afternoon. She knew she should return to the office, but just then, her phone buzzed to life. It was Blake.

“Ayla?” he greeted, his voice casual yet somehow filled with an undercurrent of urgency.

“Blake?” she replied, a hint of curiosity lacing her tone.

“Once you finish what the boss assigned you, you don’t need to come back in today,” he informed her, his words surprising her.

“Why?” Ayla asked, genuinely puzzled.

“No reason,” Blake replied, a nonchalant shrug audible in his voice. “Just some work arrangements. Consider today an external errand day.”

Ayla mulled over his words. It made sense; the entire secretary department had been working overtime for a week, clearing out backlogs. Perhaps this was their way of rewarding her. Deciding not to dwell on it, she accepted the news with a light heart.

After hanging up, Blake turned to Will, confusion etched on his face. “Everything’s arranged like you asked. But why exactly?”

The answer was simple: Draven had casually instructed him to make it happen.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify