Mr Melendez,Your Wife Wants Divorce Long ago novel Chapter 388

**Chapter 388**

Jayceon abruptly interrupted Arabella, his composure slipping away like sand through fingers.

He relaxed his grip just enough to gaze down at her, his eyes swollen and red-rimmed.

With a voice thick with emotion, he managed to choke out, “I used to believe you would never leave me. Not ever!”

Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment, but Arabella, unable to withstand the weight of his stare, averted her gaze, her heart pounding in her chest.

There was a time, not too long ago, when she had convinced herself that she would remain by Jayceon’s side for all eternity.

Not even death could sever their bond, or so she thought.

Now, Jayceon stood before her, a storm of emotions swirling within him, threatening to spill over.

His frustration boiled over into anger as he demanded, “Why do you find it so easy to chat and laugh with everyone else, yet you can’t even hold a proper conversation with me?”

His voice cracked, revealing the depth of his despair: “You’ve condemned me to a life of suffering for one mistake, refusing to grant me even a sliver of hope to make things right!”

The pain in his eyes was palpable as he pleaded, his voice trembling: “Arabella, do you intend to subject me to this icy silence for the rest of my days?”

As his words hung in the air, Jayceon bent slightly, almost bowing before her, his bloodshot eyes brimming with anguish. With a quivering voice, he implored, “Arabella, it’s me, your Jay. Please, come home with me!”

Tears streamed down his cheeks, a testament to the turmoil raging within him, as he uttered those last words.

Arabella’s gaze drifted towards the opulent car parked nearby, a stark reminder of their reality. Seizing the moment, she replied softly, “I’ll listen to you. I’ll take you home.”

Their eyes met once again, and Jayceon’s bloodshot eyes widened with a flicker of surprise, quickly overshadowed by skepticism.

Arabella, sensing his doubt, took a step closer, her voice gentle but firm: “You were rushed to the hospital this morning for stomach bleeding, and now you’re out at a social event? There are still noodles waiting for you in the fridge. Let’s go home, and I’ll make you a warm bowl.”

However, Jayceon remained unmoved, his gaze distant and troubled.

In a moment of desperation, Arabella wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest.

Her voice trembled with unshed tears as she whispered, “Jayceon, please don’t do this. You’re scaring me.”

Jayceon looked down, dazed, as he saw Arabella willingly nestled against him, her vulnerability stirring something deep within him.

An overwhelming wave of emotion surged through him, and he instinctively pulled her closer, his voice a low, hoarse whisper, “Arabella, my good girl… let’s go home.”

A sigh of relief escaped Arabella’s lips as she assisted Jayceon into the car, her mind racing with thoughts.

This was madness!

She needed to find a way to get this unstable man away from the airport as quickly as possible and then figure out a way to reach Chester without arousing suspicion.

Sliding into the passenger seat, she felt for her phone, her heart racing.

He was always the master of control, his methods sharp and unforgiving; she couldn’t drag Franklin into this chaos.

With a numb heart, Arabella turned back.

Jayceon was stepping out of the car, his expensive suit accentuating his tall, athletic frame, radiating an aura of cold authority.

He stopped just a few paces from her, maintaining his distance, yet the tension between them was palpable.

Arabella glanced around, steeling herself, and took a tentative step back toward him.

Jayceon extended his hand, an unspoken command.

Reluctantly, Arabella placed her phone in his palm.

He unlocked her device, his gaze scanning the recent call history, and a look of fury twisted his features.

“Arabella, who is Franklin?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

In a rush of desperation, she quickly explained, “It was Edmundo! He accidentally called my phone while playing a game.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them.

It was well past one in the morning—what child would still be awake at such an hour?