The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 186

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-SIX CLAIRE’S POV

The rain had somehow gotten worse by the time we started leaving the hospital.

Cold wind rushed through the parking structure while I wrapped my coat tighter around myself, shivering

harder than I wanted to admit.

Lucian noticed it immediately, his eyes narrowing slightly as he unlocked his car remotely.

“You’re getting sick.”

“I’m fine.” I replied quickly.

“You’re shivering.”

“I’m emotional,” I muttered weakly.

“That too.”

Despite everything, the corner of his mouth shifted faintly.

God. Even now, that tiny expression still did something to my chest.

Lucian opened the passenger door for me.

“Come home with me tonight.”

The words made me freeze instantly.

Home.

Not my house. Not the mansion.

Home.

My pulse stumbled painfully.

And suddenly I could see it so clearly:

the massive halls of the Dhark mansion, the marble floors, his mother’s piano, our bedroom.

Our life.

The home I had once believed I would grow old in.

I took a step back immediately. “I can’t go there.”

Lucian’s face softened almost immediately, like he understood exactly what I meant without needing explanation.

“Claire-”

“I can’t,” I repeated sharply.

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CHALTERELNE HUNDRED AND FIGHTY-SIX CLAIRES POV

A long silence stretched between us before I finally said, “I just want to go to my apartment.”

For a second, he looked like he wanted to argue.

Then his gaze shifted toward my shaking hands.

He sighed quietly. “At least let me drive you.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” I muttered immediately. “If someone photographs us-”

“Claire.”

His voice was calmer now. More steady.

“There’s nothing left for the press to speculate about that they haven’t already written.”

Unfortunately, he wasn’t actually wrong.

I looked away the moment another cold shiver ran through me.

Lucian noticed it immediately.

Then very quietly, he said, “I thought not carrying umbrellas was my thing.”

That forced a laugh out of me.

God.

That stupid rainy-night joke from the very first night we met.

Lucian opened the car door again silently, and this time, I got in.

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The drive through the city remained quiet for a while.

Rain streaked across the windshield while soft instrumental music played low through the speakers.

I leaned against the window tiredly, exhaustion taking over me now that the adrenaline from the hospital

had faded.

Lucian glanced toward me briefly at a red light.

“You should sleep when we get inside.” He suggested.

“I’ll survive.”

“You say that every single time you’re sick.”

I frowned slightly. “How would you even know that?”

He lifted his brows at me like he was about to state the most obvious thing in the world.

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ANSPORTN S

LAIRES

“We were married for years, Claire.”

Of course.

The silence that followed was.. strange. Not exactly awkward, just heavy.

“Nathaniel broke up with me.” I said eventually.

For a second, Lucian’s hands tightened slightly around the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry.”

The sincerity in his was unexpected.

I stared down at my hands. “He had every right to.”

Lucian was quiet for several seconds, before agreeing.

“Maybe.” He said quietly.

I looked toward him sharply.

He kept his eyes on the road.

“But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Something about the way he said it nearly unraveled me again.

Because Lucian understood heartbreak now. Really understood it.

And somehow, that felt tragic.

–

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By the time we reached my apartment building, I was exhausted enough that climbing the stairs felt like a personal attack.

Lucian stayed close behind me, quietly protective without hovering.

When I unlocked the apartment door, he stepped inside slowly, then immediately looked around.

“This is very… beige.”

I blinked.

“What?”

Lucian gestured vaguely toward the living room.

“Everything is beige.”

“It’s minimalist.” I corrected.

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1. STAND ECHTY SIX Ally POC

“It looks like a therapist lives here.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

Then despite myself, I laughed.

Lucian looked strangely satisfied with himself afterward.

“You’re so rude.” I said, feigning offense.

“You have seventeen candles in one room.”

“They’re decorative.” I retorted.

“They’re excessive.” Lucian bit back.

I pointed toward the kitchen.

“You once bought a six-foot sculpture because you said it looked emotionally intelligent.”

“It did.”

I laughed again.

And God, did that sound feel unfamiliar after the kind of week I’d just had.

Lucian loosened his tie slowly while surveying the apartment again.

“This place doesn’t feel like you.”

I frowned slightly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looked at me directly then.

“It feels temporary.”

The words landed strangely deep.

Before I could answer, Lucian suddenly touched my forehead lightly.

His expression darkened instantly.

“You’re definitely getting sick.”

“I’m not-”

He didn’t let me finish. “You’re burning up.”

“I’m emotionally overheated.” I stated.

Lucian gave me a look, then calmly walked toward my kitchen like he belonged there.

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CLARY STAV

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“What are you doing?”

“Making soup.”

I stared at him.

“Did you learn how to cook?”

“No.”

That answer should not have been as funny as it was.

Twenty minutes later, I sat wrapped in a blanket at the kitchen island while Lucian carefully placed a

bowl in front of me.

Steam rose from it, but the smell alone concerned me.

I peered down at the contents of the bowl suspiciously.

“What is this?”

“Soup.”

“That’s generous.”

Lucian sat across from me calmly.

“You need to eat.”

I took one reluctant spoonful, then immediately grimaced.

“Oh my God.”

Lucian looked offended.

“It’s not that bad.”

“It tastes like punishment.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“It tastes like boiled regret.”

To my complete shock-

Lucian laughed.

Actually laughed.

Low and rough and real.

And for a second-

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ANSER TO A

AWI

just one second-