Divorced CEO's Forgotten Wife Strikes Back (Riley and Bryce) novel Chapter 5

**TITLE: Dreams Refuse Gravity by Leo Arden Knox**
**Chapter 5: My education isn’t up for your review**

**Riley’s POV**

The day of my parents’ funeral dawned under a sky cloaked in a heavy, misty lead gray, as if the heavens themselves were mourning alongside me.

Dressed entirely in black, I carefully arranged two black-and-white photographs on a small table, placing them side by side. The faces in those images radiated warmth and joy, forever frozen in time, yet they were no longer part of this world. The autumn wind whipped around me, howling through the sleeves of my coat, yet I felt an eerie numbness, a detachment from the cold.

The somber strains of funeral music filled the air, a haunting melody that seemed to echo my grief. I stood beside the memorial tablets, bowing my head in acknowledgment to each guest who approached, offering their condolences.

“Riley, my deepest sympathies. You really need to take care of yourself now,” my aunt Margaret Fraley said, her voice thick with emotion as she squeezed my hand. Her eyes, rimmed red and puffy, darted around the gathering. “Where’s Bryce? Why isn’t he here with you during such a difficult time?”

I hesitated, caught off guard by the question. How could I explain?

“Yeah, Riley. Why are you handling this alone? I haven’t seen your husband anywhere,” chimed in my old friend Wynne Currey, her brow furrowed with concern.

Years of friendship had forged a bond that allowed her to sense the turmoil beneath the surface. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Did you two have a fight?”

The weight of her question hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. Just as I was about to respond, a familiar voice broke through the murmur of the crowd.

“I’ve been here the whole time. Just handling things in the back,” Bryce said, his tone steady yet distant.

I turned to see him standing there, his presence somehow both comforting and disconcerting. He stepped beside me with an ease that belied the tension in the air, nodding slightly at Margaret.

Margaret’s expression shifted from surprise to relief. “Oh… I see. That’s good. Riley’s been through so much. Having you here means her parents can rest easy,” she said, her voice softening.

With Bryce’s arrival, the curious glances from the crowd began to dissipate, the atmosphere shifting slightly as if his presence had cast a protective barrier around us.

I stole a sideways glance at him, surprised and somewhat relieved that he had actually shown up.

After the guests began to filter into the funeral hall, it felt as if the world outside had faded away, leaving only the two of us standing at the entrance.

The air thickened with an uncomfortable silence, filled with unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings.

He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I ordered flowers. They’re outside. I’ll have someone bring them in soon,” he said, his voice steady, though I could sense the underlying tension.

“Okay,” I replied, my gaze fixed on the ground, avoiding his eyes. I felt as if I were standing behind an iron shield, his body a barrier meant to protect me, yet I remained distant, lost in my own turmoil.

The chaotic sounds of the outside world faded into a muffled blur, and in my mind, a singular image remained: my husband, Bryce, protecting another woman in a moment of crisis.

I watched their intertwined figures, a single thought reverberating through my mind like a drumbeat.

“Bryce Murphy, we’re done.”

The warmth I had felt earlier evaporated, leaving an icy resolve in its wake.

He seemed eager to break the heavy silence, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “Riley, about what happened that day…”

I anticipated his words—a justification or perhaps an apology.

A flicker of warmth ignited in my chest, a reminder of the love we once shared. If he truly wished to make amends, was I prepared to forgive him?

Before I could respond, a familiar voice pierced the tension like a knife. “Bryce!”

It was Bella, her tone urgent as she approached us.

She, too, was dressed in black, her makeup understated, as if she were trying to blend into the somber occasion.

She hurried over, bowing slightly toward the funeral hall before turning her gaze to me. “Ms. Anderson, I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said, her voice sincere yet laced with an underlying tension.

She rushed to clarify, her words tumbling out in a flurry. “Don’t misunderstand me. I didn’t come with Bryce. I just overheard him mention your parents’ funeral was today. I thought it was the right thing to do, to come and pay my respects, so I came alone.”

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