The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 158

Or perhaps, from a doctor's perspective, he might advise her to avoid emotional highs and lows for the sake of her health.

At the very least, a consoling "things will get better."

After all, to outsiders, divorce is usually seen as a failure.

"Is that so?" Noah looked at her, his voice clear and gentle. "Then, congratulations."

Clara was stunned. "Congratulations? Is that really the right word for a divorce?"

"That depends on how you define 'divorce,'" Noah smiled. "If it's getting out of a burning house, it's absolutely worth celebrating. If it's regaining your freedom, it's even more worth celebrating. For you right now, this is the cleanest way to save yourself."

He bent down slightly, bringing his eyes level with hers, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Clara, congratulations."

Clara felt like crying again.

She quickly tilted her head back and downed the water in one go to hide the moisture welling up in her eyes.

"Thank you."

She handed the cup back to him, not daring to stay longer for fear of losing her composure in front of him again.

"I won't disturb you any longer then. As for Simon... if he starts acting crazy in the middle of the night, just throw him out, don't be polite."

Noah nodded. "Okay. Get some rest."

He stood at the door, watching her go upstairs. Only when he heard the lock of the security door click on the floor above did he close his own door.

Noah turned around, glanced at Simon on the sofa, walked over, and pulled the blanket up to cover the mouth that was still muttering about "Godfather has money."

Upstairs.

Clara entered her apartment, didn't take off her coat, and walked over to sit on the sofa.

Thirty days.

As long as she survived these thirty days, she and Rhys would truly have nothing to do with each other.

She closed her eyes, remembering the words he had said in the car.

[I do love you.]

Did Rhys love her?

Maybe a little.

If he didn't, given his personality, he wouldn't have married her in the first place.

A long column of ash trembled at the tip of his cigarette until the heat kissed his fingers and jolted him back. He snubbed the cigarette out on the floor.

He couldn't sleep.

The divorce application receipt was still in his chest pocket, resting against his heartbeat.

Whenever he closed his eyes, the scene at City Hall played out in his mind.

When Clara signed that application, she hadn't hesitated for a second.

"Actually, you did love me once, didn't you?"

When she asked that, it was as if she had already anticipated the answer, or perhaps, she simply didn't care about the answer anymore.

Rhys rolled over.

This feeling was unfamiliar and terrifying.

He had always thought that no matter how high or far the kite flew, as long as he held the string, it would come back whenever he wanted to reel it in.

That was why he dared to bury himself in work, dared to take care of others, dared to ignore her feelings time and again. Because he was certain Clara was different; she would always be by his side.

He had said Margot wasn't smart enough, but the truly stupid one was him.