Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 708

Her cheeks had thinned. Her eyes were full of exhaustion that she couldn't hide.

Ayla was only 24 a year ago. She'd turned 25 this year. The most beautiful years of her life, and she'd spent them shouldering this much weight alone.

Draven was five years older. Age-wise, he was like a brother—just like he was to Bria. He should have been protecting Ayla, giving her safety, taking the first steps toward her. Instead, he'd spent the whole time pushing her into corners.

The guilt hit deep. He'd made her sad, let her down, and disappointed her. He was willing to spend the rest of his life making it right.

Without thinking, Draven tightened his arms around her.

Ayla hadn't eaten before coming. The coffee and pastries from earlier barely counted. She struggled for a while, then ran out of energy entirely.

Draven's forearms were practically the size of her calves. She didn't stand a chance.

She was on his turf. The only way she was leaving was if Draven chose to be merciful.

Being this powerless, this much at someone's mercy—it was suffocating.

Draven carried her effortlessly to a bedroom. Straight to bed.

Ayla's entire body went rigid.

Draven noticed. "What's wrong?"

Ayla was genuinely terrified now. "Are you... going to force yourself on me?"

If Draven dared ignore her consent, Ayla would hate him until the day she died. She'd take him down with her. Because that was something she could never accept. Not from anyone. Not even Draven.

Draven couldn't begin to imagine what kind of monster he'd become in her mind. Brutal. Savage. Like something out of a horror story.

The image she'd had of him was gone. Completely shattered.

In the past, he'd been terrified of this exact moment. He'd hidden, pretended, lived inside a persona. His deepest fear was Ayla discovering the real, ugly him.

Now it had actually happened. And strangely... he felt calm.

As if it wasn't as unbearable as he'd expected.

Maybe because he knew that compared to what Ayla was imagining, the truth was kinder.

He laid her gently on the bed and sat at the edge, his eyes tracing her tired, drawn face. "Right now, the only thing on my mind is you. I couldn't care less about anything else."

Ayla heard the familiar voice, saw the familiar gaze, and some of the tension in her chest loosened.

But what if this is another mask?

She didn't dare drop her guard. "Then why did you bring me here?"

Max was gone. She'd driven into a compound with military-grade security. In her current state, taking the children wasn't realistic.

Better to rest. Regroup. Find another way.

Maybe she could talk Draven around. Communicate without triggering him. There might still be a path.

Besides, she refused to believe Draven would actually keep her and the babies locked up here forever.

Ayla stopped resisting. She pushed his hand away, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep.

She couldn't see him, but she could feel his gaze pressing against her skin. The pressure was enormous. And falling asleep with your ex-boyfriend staring at you wasn't exactly comfortable. She couldn't relax.

Ayla opened her eyes. Draven's hand was frozen mid-air.

He'd stopped because she'd caught him.

Ayla flinched, clutched the blanket, and scooted backward. She stared at him. "What are you doing?"

Draven pulled his hand back, visibly embarrassed. "Go to sleep."

"I can't sleep with you in here."

After everything today, Ayla didn't know which version of Draven to trust. She was operating on zero security.