No Sex for Six Years Because of Her? I'm Done novel Chapter 9

**My Heart Waited Too Long and Choosing Freedom**
**Chapter 9: Her Awakening**

Amelia had no intention of getting drawn into a futile argument with Beatrice. With a sense of indifference, she turned her back on the estate and walked away.

Summoning a rideshare, she stood on the curb, waiting. The night air was cool and brisk, brushing against her skin, but it did little to alleviate the heaviness in her heart. The streetlights shone down like harsh spotlights, illuminating her feelings of defeat and disillusionment. Lost in her swirling thoughts, the anguish of Ethan’s departure weighed heavily on her—far more than she had anticipated.

Upon arriving home, the absence of both Ethan and Hannah hit her like a cold wave; the silence echoed through the empty spaces of the house. Yet, a flicker of light caught her attention from upstairs—the main bedroom.

With a sense of urgency, Amelia ascended the stairs, her heart racing. As she pushed the door open, her eyes fell upon Isla, who was seated at the low table, twisting a robot figurine with a force that sent shivers down Amelia’s spine.

That figurine had been a labor of love, a gift she had given Ethan for their third anniversary.

Her heart tightened painfully. Ethan had always had a fascination with firearms and mechanical gadgets, so she had gone to great lengths to find a collection of decorative bullet casings. For an entire week, she had meticulously crafted the pieces into a formidable robot figure.

When she had presented it to him, Ethan’s initial reaction had been lukewarm at best. He had raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing it with a long, contemplative gaze before finally stating, “You put a lot of thought into this.”

Yet, deep down, Amelia had sensed that he appreciated it, for from that day on, the robot had held a place of honor in their bedroom.

Now, watching Isla manhandle something she had poured her heart into, Amelia felt a surge of anger.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice icy. “Put it down.”

Isla, startled by the sudden intrusion, froze momentarily. But when she turned and recognized Amelia, her demeanor shifted to one of defiance. Instead of complying, she clutched the robot even tighter.

“Ethan already gave me this room to stay in! Everything here is mine. I’m not giving it to you.”

Amelia almost laughed at the absurdity of Isla’s logic, her frustration bubbling beneath the surface. She looked down at the spoiled child, her eyes devoid of warmth. “Is that so? Then just wait until he actually becomes your father.”

Before she could say anything more, Ethan and Hannah’s footsteps echoed from downstairs, growing louder as they approached.

Isla, emboldened by the impending arrival of her mother, puffed out her chest and, with a triumphant huff, raised the figurine high above her head before slamming it down onto the floor.

The sound of shattering echoed through the room, pieces of the beloved robot scattering across the floor like confetti.

In an instant, Isla covered her eyes and erupted into tears, her wails filling the air.

“What’s going on?”

Ethan stepped into the bedroom just in time to witness the chaos: Isla sobbing uncontrollably, while Amelia stood frozen, her complexion ashen. And there, on the floor, lay the remnants of the figurine he had cherished.

A pang of sorrow pierced through Ethan’s heart, as if something significant had been violently torn from him.

Hannah entered right behind him, her expression shifting as she took in the scene.

Isla, seeking comfort, rushed into Hannah’s arms, her cries muffled as she twisted the truth in her favor. “Mommy! I just thought it looked pretty and wanted to pick it up to look at it. But the moment Ms. Harlow came in, she yelled at me! She even said I deserved to have my daddy die! Wahhh … and then she smashed it on purpose, saying Ethan would be really angry when he saw it and would kick me out…”

Amelia couldn’t believe her ears. The sheer audacity of the child’s fabrications left her incredulous.

She had never realized that a child could weave such intricate tales.

At that moment, Hannah’s act began to unfold.

Her eyes glistened with feigned sorrow as she turned her gaze upon Amelia, her voice dripping with indignation. “Ms. Harlow, I know you’re upset with us for attending your grandfather’s celebration. If you’re angry, take it out on me. Why direct your ire at a child? Isla is only six, and she’s still recovering from her injury. How could you treat her this way?”

Amelia straightened, her posture resolute.

“Just because she’s young doesn’t mean she can wreak havoc on other people’s belongings,” she retorted coldly, her voice unwavering.

Hannah’s eyes softened as she perceived the distant look in Amelia’s gaze.

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