No Sex for Six Years Because of Her? I'm Done novel Chapter 10

**TITLE: My Heart Waited Too Long and Choosing Freedom**
**Chapter 10: Expanding Her Studio**

As soon as she finished gathering the scattered remnants of their shared life, a sense of finality washed over her.

**Finished.**

With a chilling clarity, Amelia realized that the chapter she had written with Ethan had come to an end. There would be no epilogue, no further pages to turn…

In the guest room of the villa, Ethan had finally managed to soothe Isla, whose sobs had echoed through the hall like a haunting melody. He gently tucked her in, his heart aching as he gazed at her tear-streaked face. Yet, a frown creased his forehead; something felt amiss, a dissonance in the air that he couldn’t quite place.

He had always prided himself on understanding Amelia’s character. She was gentle, patient, and incredibly resilient. But tonight, there was an edge to her that he had never witnessed before—a sharpness that cut through the usual calm.

When things felt out of balance, there had to be a reason behind it.

A troubling thought crept into his mind.

Had the Harlows wronged her? Had they pushed her to the brink?

His heart sank as he prepared to leave the room, the weight of concern pulling at his chest.

“Ethan…” Hannah’s voice broke through his thoughts, her expression a mix of regret and uncertainty. “Maybe Isla and I should consider moving out. It seems like Ms. Harlow really isn’t comfortable with us here. I don’t want to create any tension between you two because of us.”

A wave of irritation washed over him, inexplicable yet potent.

He rubbed his temples, his voice colder than he intended. “You’re staying here because I made that decision. This is my house, and I’m still in charge. Don’t worry about anyone else.”

With that, he stepped outside into the tranquil garden, the night air cool against his skin.

Pulling out his phone, he dialed Kevin. “Hey, I need you to investigate what happened at the estate after I left the celebration. Particularly concerning my wife. Did the Harlows give her a hard time?”

Kevin was always prompt and efficient.

In no time at all, the call came through.

“Mr. Rowe, I have some information.” Kevin’s voice was cautious, almost hesitant. “After you departed, David summoned your wife to the study. The maids reported that he berated her quite harshly. It seems everyone in the Harlow household is aware of it.”

Berated her?

Ethan’s heart clenched painfully.

A torrent of emotions surged within him—anger, guilt, and a fierce protectiveness.

He ended the call and rushed back to the bedroom, his mind racing.

Inside, Amelia was standing by the door, a bulging black trash bag in her hand, preparing to leave. The remnants of their past, once scattered across the floor, had been meticulously cleaned up.

The sight of it struck him like a physical blow, an inexplicable emptiness settling in his chest.

His throat tightened as he spoke, “That robot can still be repaired, can’t it? Let me help you fix it.”

Amelia looked up at him, her eyes devoid of emotion.

“It can’t be fixed,” she replied flatly. “It’s trash now.”

With that, she brushed past him, making her way to the hallway trash can, where she unceremoniously tossed the bag filled with their memories.

“I… I’ll arrange for someone to find new bullet casings,” Ethan stammered, desperation creeping into his voice.

“It’s nothing, just a little accident,” Amelia replied, brushing off the concern with a wave of her hand. She had no intention of delving into the details.

She had opened this studio in secret shortly after marrying Ethan, keeping it hidden from everyone.

The Rowes and Harlows expected a glamorous, dignified, and submissive wife.

They disapproved of her being in the public eye, especially when it came to measuring and tailoring clothes for others, deeming it beneath their family’s status.

But there had been a time when someone had smiled at her and said, “Amelia, no matter how comfortable life gets, never stray from what you love.”

Now, as word spread about her talent, more clients were flocking to her for custom dresses.

She had dreams of expanding her studio, of making it a place where creativity could flourish.

“Come on, Amanda, let’s go check out a few more locations,” she urged, her excitement bubbling to the surface.

By noon, Amelia and Amanda had toured several new offices recommended by the realtor, but none had captured Amelia’s interest.

Either the locations were too isolated, or the layouts lacked the elegance and character she desired.

“Ms. Harlow, please don’t lose hope,” the realtor said, noticing her growing disinterest. He flipped through his files again, determined to find the perfect spot. “How about this? In Solara, there’s a vacant standalone villa at Maplewood Estates. It has two floors and a small yard, and the environment is absolutely lovely. It would definitely align with your vision.”

Maplewood Estates?

Amelia paused, her mind racing. That was a prestigious neighborhood, known for its affluent residents.

Sensing her hesitation, the realtor quickly added, “Don’t assume it’s out of your budget. The size isn’t particularly large, and the owner is financially secure with a rather difficult personality, which is why it’s been on the market for a while without being rented.”