Forgotten Wife My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left (Clara and Liam) novel Chapter 324

Emily’s POV

I was still sitting in that restaurant even after Liam disappeared through the door, his footsteps fading away without a single glance back. The air inside felt cold whether from the air conditioning or my own anger slowly piercing my bones, I couldn’t tell.

Since earlier, Liam had been like that, constantly pulling away, keeping his distance, as if I were some kind of threat. Yet before he was nothing like this.

I tapped the table with my fingertips, the quick rhythm betraying the irritation I couldn’t suppress. The food in front of me remained untouched. All of this was pointless. The dinner, the conversation, even the small touches I’d tried earlier none of it made him look at me the way he used to.

Back then, Liam always looked at me as if I were the only thing that made this world make a little more sense. His gaze was warm, attentive. Now? His eyes were empty, cold, calculating. As though I had to pass through layer after layer of fortress walls just to reach him and I knew I would never truly be allowed inside again.

I let out a rough breath and leaned back in my chair. My hand trembled slightly as I reached for my glass of water. Not from anger alone, but from a fear I refused to admit.

Fear of losing him. Fear that this distance wasn’t temporary. Fear that the name Sienna had taken the place that once whether deserved or not had been mine.

I snorted softly. Funny, isn’t it. I couldn’t even fully hate Sienna. The woman was sick. Weak. In need of care. The world would judge me mercilessly if I admitted I was jealous of someone whose own body was at war with itself. But feelings never cared about logic or morality. Feelings knew only one thing: I felt pushed aside.

I clenched my fist beneath the table. Liam said he still cared. Those words kept looping in my head, over and over, like a broken recording. Still cared. But what kind of caring made someone walk away like that? What kind of caring forced me to beg for scraps of attention like an emotional beggar?

I let out a small, bitter laugh. If I cried now, maybe people would look at me with pity. But I refused to appear weak. I refused to look like a woman who had lost. Not in public. Not in Liam’s life.

A waiter approached, asking if I wanted my meal boxed up. I shook my head quickly. My voice caught as I said, “No, thank you.” As soon as he left, I finally stood. My legs felt heavy, but I forced myself to walk toward the exit.

Outside the restaurant, the night air greeted me with a thin breeze. I hugged myself not from the cold, but because there was an emptiness in my chest.

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