Three years of loving him, three days to erase myself from his world novel Chapter 165

At that moment, Clara was wandering through a high-end mall. She simply refused to stay trapped in that suffocating house.

Since it wasn't time to leave the city just yet, getting out and walking around seemed like the best option.

Hearing her phone ring, she pulled it out. Seeing Julian's name on the screen, her gaze darkened, but she ultimately answered.

After all, today was likely the very last day of their relationship.

"Hello? What's wrong?"

Clara asked, her tone completely mild.

Through the receiver.

Hearing her soft, even voice, an inexplicable tug pulled at Julian's chest. His own tone naturally softened in response.

"Where did you go?"

Clara paused.

She wasn't some naive little girl. When a man like him asked that question, it wasn't out of genuine care—it was out of possessiveness. He was checking to make sure she wasn't seeing anyone else.

It was laughable.

He didn't love her, yet he insisted on keeping her chained to him.

Clara lowered her eyes, a hint of mockery slipping into her voice. "Julian, you don't need to interrogate me like this. I think it's best if we just keep to ourselves from now on, don't you?"

It was a jarring, unpleasant thing to hear.

Julian fell dead silent.

Not wanting to start a fight, Clara added mildly, "I'm at the mall, picking up a few things."

After a brief pause, likely not wanting the conversation to freeze over again, Julian murmured, "At the mall? Pick up a couple of shirts for me, then."

His voice was husky, carrying a trace of intimacy, like the whispered request of a devoted lover.

Clara froze, her heart contracting sharply in her chest. But the sensation wasn't sweet; it was pure, agonizing bitterness.

She had bought him countless pieces of clothing over the years. Every time she went shopping, even if she didn't buy anything for herself, she always made sure to get something for him.

But he just never wore any of it.

He probably hated her taste.

After all, whenever Seraphina bought him cufflinks or ties, he wore them constantly. He even insisted on hand-washing them himself when they got dirty.

So why was he asking her to buy him shirts now? What was the point?

Swallowing the bitter taste in her mouth, Clara replied softly, "Julian, you've forgotten. All your clothes are custom-made."

Julian faltered.

He wasn't entirely blind to her sudden coldness.

But his pride wouldn't allow him to ask twice or lower himself to beg. His tone cooled considerably as he commanded, "Just remember to send me the address for tonight's restaurant."

Before Clara could respond, he hung up.

The line went dead.

Clara stared at the disconnected screen, feeling absolutely nothing. In the past, whenever he hung up on her like that, she would spiral into anxiety, overthinking every word and agonizing over what she had done wrong.

None of it mattered anymore.

She texted him the address, slipped the phone back into her purse, and continued her shopping spree.

...

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify