Mr Melendez Your Wife Wants Divorce Long Ago novel Chapter 173

**Title: Her Spark Ignites Tonight**
**By J.S. Caldwell**
**Chapter 173**

In the stillness of the night, an oppressive silence enveloped the room, thick and suffocating like a heavy fog. The clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, each second stretching into an eternity, as if time itself had conspired to prolong the tension between them.

At precisely two-thirty in the morning, the soft beep of the IV machine came to a halt, signaling the end of Arabella’s infusion. Jayceon, with a mixture of urgency and trepidation, summoned a nurse to assist. As she approached, Arabella slowly fluttered her eyelids open, the dim light revealing her pale complexion, a stark contrast to the sterile white of the hospital sheets.

When Jayceon reached out to her, she instinctively recoiled, opting to press the cotton swab against her own skin with a determination that surprised him. He hovered over her, his hands suspended in the air, a silent witness to her defiance. His gaze, dark and intense, searched her face for any sign of discomfort.

With a hesitant smile tugging at his lips, he managed to ask, “…Does it still hurt?” The question slipped out before he could catch it, and as soon as it left his mouth, regret washed over him like a cold wave. He was all too aware of the sting of the whip, a pain that had left him bruised, and he couldn’t fathom how much more unbearable it must be for someone as delicate as Arabella, who had always feared pain since childhood.

Arabella lay on her side, her eyes fixed on Jayceon as he wrestled with his emotions. The sight of his furrowed brow elicited a faint smile from her, a weak attempt to reassure him. “It doesn’t hurt,” she whispered, her voice fragile, like glass on the verge of shattering.

Their eyes locked, and she offered him a small, yet poignant smile. In that moment, a sharp pang pierced through Jayceon’s chest, a visceral reminder of the distance that had grown between them. “Arabella, I know you’re in pain. If you’re upset, just let it all out. Don’t bottle it up like this,” he urged, his voice thick with concern.

Feeling the weight of his agitation, Arabella mustered the strength to sit up slightly, her expression resolute. “I’m really fine,” she insisted, though the words felt hollow. No matter how much the physical pain throbbed, it paled in comparison to the heartache of hearing Jayceon’s confession that he didn’t love her. The betrayal of witnessing their so-called “reunion of the century” through a screen had cut deeper than any whip ever could.

Jayceon perched on the edge of the bed, their proximity an electric charge in the air. Arabella’s silence, her obedient demeanor, felt unsettling to him. It was as if she had retreated into herself, and this submission sent waves of panic through him.

Tentatively, he reached for her hand, his grip gentle yet firm. “I was wrong tonight. I shouldn’t have allowed Georgina into our dressing room, or let her wear your clothes,” he confessed, his voice laced with regret.

Arabella subtly withdrew her hand, her gaze steady. “You and I can both be shared with her, so what’s a piece of clothing? If she wore it, she wore it,” she replied, her casual tone belying the weight of her words. The nonchalance in her voice felt like a boulder pressing down on Jayceon’s chest, making it hard for him to breathe.

Jayceon’s brow furrowed, frustration creeping into his features. “In your words, I hear your admiration for Georgina, your heartache for her, and your lingering regret and dissatisfaction,” she replied, her tone piercing through his defenses.

In a moment of desperation, he released her wrist and cupped the back of her neck, drawing her closer. “Arabella, I’m only taking care of Georgina and her son. I don’t have the feelings you’re implying. Just pretend they don’t exist, and let’s focus on us, alright?” His voice softened, a plea hidden beneath the surface.

Arabella tilted her head slightly, her gaze unwavering as she searched his eyes for sincerity. “You knew you were hurting me, and you continued. That’s not a mistake; that’s a choice,” she stated, her voice steady, yet filled with pain.

In a moment of vulnerability, Jayceon pulled her into his embrace, holding her tightly as if he could shield her from the world’s cruelties. “Arabella, I chose to care for Georgina and her son, but you and I are the ones who are meant to be together for life,” he vowed, his words a desperate attempt to bridge the chasm that had formed between them.

Yet, he held back the truth that Georgina’s child was not his by blood, a secret that lingered like a dark cloud over their fragile reconciliation. Arabella nestled her cheek against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing balm against the chaos in her mind, offering her a fleeting sense of peace amidst the turmoil.