Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 705

Her heart would be a mess again.

And she'd be exhausted. Again.

Ayla held firm. "No means no. I don't need a reason."

Draven stared into her eyes. She'd rejected him cleanly, again. For a split second, the old feeling crashed over him—the abandoned child accepting his fate, believing he didn't deserve to stay.

But... he didn't want to be that person anymore.

Every step Ayla took backward, he would take one forward.

No matter how far she ran, he would chase.

This time, he would hold her hand and never let go.

For the first time in a life spent accepting whatever was handed to him, he finally knew what he wanted.

And you don't let go of that.

You absolutely do not let go.

Draven drew a long breath. The hard edge in his voice softened. His gaze turned gentle. "Ayla, I know Troy and I are alike in a lot of ways. But you know we're not the same. I have a forceful side, yes. But I would never truly hurt you. When you broke up with me, you were afraid the children would become a burden between us, weren't you? I—"

Ayla stared at him, stunned.

Is that the reason behind everything he's done? The thing no one else could understand?

Draven forced the words out. "You and Max are... to—" He physically could not say "together." He pivoted. "I don't mind that he exists."

Right on cue, Max strolled in.

"Got that backwards, Mr. Storm. The question is whether I mind. And right now, you don't exactly have a say."

They'd been so deep in conversation that neither had noticed Max approaching.

Max walked straight to Ayla, took the hand Draven had just been holding, and laced his fingers through hers—tight, deliberate, like he was overwriting every trace. "Ayla is my girlfriend. I suggest you get that straight. You're here to explain yourself, not to poach."

Ayla lowered her eyes.

That was exactly what she'd been thinking.

Max glanced at Ayla, then back at Draven's sharp, frozen face. A dangerous glint surfaced in those hunter eyes. "You've explained enough. We're taking the children and leaving."

Draven's expression hardened visibly, but those deep, cutting eyes betrayed nothing. He watched them in silence.

His gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, to their joined hands.

Ayla was grateful Max was here.

If nothing else, Max was sharp. Quick on his feet. He could articulate exactly what needed to be said, and when Ayla started wavering in front of Draven, Max steadied her.

She didn't know why, but she couldn't stand seeing Draven like this. Couldn't handle hearing him say these things. Because every word sent ripples crashing through her. And the side of Draven she'd just seen—so different from anything she knew—she was still trying to process it.

Processing this man's transformation.

Max's intervention snapped her back. Her focus should be on what she wanted.

If she didn't want to wade into another relationship, then she shouldn't.

Because this wasn't four months ago.

This wasn't fresh off the breakup.

If Draven had laid his heart bare like this right after they split—shown her what he truly felt, held nothing back—a few sentences might have been enough to make her surrender.

But nearly four months had passed. The babies were over 50 days old. She'd been through hell. Her mindset had changed.

No point going further.

"Ayla, ready to go?" Max gave her hand a gentle squeeze and tilted his head toward her.