Mr Melendez,Your Wife Wants Divorce Long ago novel Chapter 184

**Her Spark Ignites Tonight**
By J.S. Caldwell

**Chapter 184**

Arabella’s voice cut through the heavy silence like a knife. “For them, you can defy your grandpa, go against your parents, and even betray your marriage. I can’t help but feel envious of the way you feel about Georgina. Can you please stop pretending to be so innocent?”

Their gazes locked, and an intense stillness enveloped the room, making the air feel thick and stifling.

The tension was palpable, almost suffocating.

After what felt like an eternity, Jayceon finally broke the silence, his voice low and strained. “Then tell me, what is it you truly desire?”

Arabella let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh, the sound echoing in the heavy atmosphere. “If I so much as annoy you, I either face your threats or risk being thrown into prison. What can I possibly do? What would I dare to do?”

Beneath her seemingly indifferent smile lay a heart reduced to mere ashes, remnants of what once was.

A sharp pang pierced through Jayceon’s chest, causing him to stumble back a couple of steps, as if the weight of her words had physically struck him.

He attempted to force a smile, tugging at the corners of his mouth, but no sound escaped his lips.

He had resorted to manipulation, using tricks to bend her will, to keep her by his side in a semblance of obedience. But deep down, his intention had always been to salvage their marriage; he never truly wanted to inflict pain upon her.

Arabella, observing the conflicted turmoil etched across Jayceon’s face, said softly, “Jayceon, I understand. The reason you refuse to acknowledge your feelings for Georgina, the reason you hesitate to be with her and her son openly, is that you fear your grandpa.”

Before Jayceon could muster a response, Arabella placed a hand over her heart and declared, “Don’t worry about a thing. You and Georgina can love each other freely. I will take full responsibility for whatever consequences arise. You need not interfere. I’ll be the villain in this story. I promise, I will not let the woman you love come to harm.”

With those words hanging heavily in the air, Arabella turned away and stepped into the bathroom.

She sank into the tub, closing her eyes and allowing the warm water to envelop her. In that moment, she felt neither joy nor sorrow, not even a twinge of bitterness.

This conclusion was not worthy of the woman who had once poured her heart into love with every fiber of her being.

She shouldn’t be the one left with regrets.

Once, she had believed that Jayceon was her ultimate sanctuary, her sole emotional anchor.

But now, clarity washed over her.

Her true anchor could be found in music, in travel, in the pages of books, in her career—anything but a single person.

It no longer mattered.

She could love deeply, and she could also let go.

She no longer desired it.

In the adjacent bathroom, Jayceon stood beneath the relentless spray of the shower, adjusting the temperature downwards repeatedly, as if trying to cool the storm raging within him.

His hands pressed against the tiled wall, shoulders slumping as his head hung low, his entire being felt crushed under the weight of exhaustion.

She despised him.

She loathed his threats, his methods, and the betrayal that had seeped into their lives like poison.

Arabella, blissfully unaware, slept soundly beside him, her dreams untouched by the turmoil that enveloped him.

Morning arrived in the hospital’s treatment room.

Arabella was busy giving Cyrano physical therapy, her focus unwavering.

The spacious treatment room was filled with a calming ambiance; an incense stick, carefully blended by Arabella, burned softly in the censer, while the gentle tones of a Singing Bowl resonated in the air, creating a serene atmosphere.

Cyrano, freshly showered and dressed in loose, clean pajamas, reclined on the treatment bed, ready for his session.

As she prepared for the therapy, Arabella casually asked, “When you purchased that apartment, were there any other floors available in our building?”

Cyrano replied with a hint of humor, “The Ninth Circle of Hell is empty.”

Arabella chuckled softly and nodded. “If you cooperate with the treatment, I’ll invite you over to my place this weekend.”

Later that weekend, Arabella ventured to the fresh market with Victoria, returning home with an abundance of groceries.

Jayceon stood in the kitchen doorway, dressed in dark loungewear that hung loosely on his frame.

“Go change,” Arabella called out, her tone brisk. “I’m expecting a guest soon.”

Jayceon’s expression was far from cheerful. “Arabella, can you come out for a moment? I need to talk to you.”

After speaking, he turned and walked toward the living room, leaving a trail of unresolved tension in his wake.