Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 588

Chapter 588 Eight Months

Troy stayed silent for at least a full minute. Slowly, his eyes turned red, yet there was no regret in them at all. He lightly wiped away his tears. Even that small gesture carried a hint of reckless defiance, like someone who had completely lost his mind. “Ayla, you really know how to hurt people. How could you truly fall in love with Draven?” he said.

“Why couldn’t I?” Ayla replied.

The veins on Troy’s forehead bulged. He had missed Ayla to the point of madness. She was right in front of him now, close enough to see and touch, yet the pain in his chest was worse than when he only longed for her. He asked hoarsely, “Can I hug you?”

“No,” Ayla said.

Troy clenched his teeth. “What if I insist?”

“That would be just as meaningless as when you insist I imagine hypotheticals,” Ayla replied.

“Fine. Ayla, you’re really something,” Troy said. That surge of emotion vanished again, replaced by something darker and heavier. “I originally planned to wait another two months before coming to see you, but I was really afraid you and Draven would quietly go get married. Of course, even if you do get married, it doesn’t matter. As long as I’m around, you’ll end up divorcing sooner or later.”

The bad feeling Ayla had just pushed down surged back up. “What do you mean?”

Troy looked at her deeply. On Draven’s birthday he had finally faced his own heart. He loved Ayla. But by the time he realized it, he had already lost her. That blow was something he simply could not bear.

He had never experienced a state where his entire body felt drained of strength. Heartbreak truly caused physical pain. He had been utterly miserable.

That day, when he returned to the villa, Troy stayed in Ayla’s room for an entire day. He only wanted to remain somewhere that still carried her presence. He could not sleep. He lay alone on the floor. When he tried to get up, his body trembled as he searched for something to steady himself. He pulled open the drawer of Ayla’s desk and found it filled with torn scraps of paper.

He picked up the fragments. They were from her diary.

He pieced them together slowly.

“If it’s a boy, we’ll call him Fluffy. If it’s a girl, we’ll call her Birdie. Because you like to stroke my hair when I’m asleep or sick. It feels warm and gentle.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify