Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 13

**TITLE: Hands Trembled Before Goodbye — Ryan Ellis 13**

The late afternoon sun poured through the half-drawn curtains of Amelia’s dining room, casting warm, golden rays that danced across the table. The modest setting featured two delicate cups, a porcelain teapot that exhaled gentle wisps of steam, and a small plate of biscuits—treats Clara had insisted on bringing, her way of adding sweetness to an otherwise heavy moment.

Amelia sat across from Clara, her spoon softly clinking against the rim of her cup as she stirred her tea in slow, thoughtful circles, her gaze fixed on the swirling liquid. Clara, leaning back in her chair with an air of relaxed confidence, observed her friend closely, a knowing look in her eyes.

“So…” Clara began, breaking the silence that had stretched between them like a taut string, “you have been avoiding me, Amelia. Don’t even think about denying it. If I hadn’t pushed for this meeting today, you would have found another excuse to postpone.”

Amelia let out a long, weary sigh, her shoulders drooping as if the weight of Clara’s words pressed down on her.

“It’s not that I’m avoiding you,” she murmured, finally lifting her eyes to meet Clara’s. “Adrian and I just settled things yesterday. I’ve been… angry at him.”

Clara’s brow arched slightly, though a faint smile curled at her lips. She reached for the teapot, pouring the steaming amber liquid into her cup with a practiced ease that spoke of years spent perfecting this ritual.

“I knew it,” Clara declared, handing the teapot to Amelia. “I could hear it in your voice the last time we spoke. Girl, you need to take some time for yourself. Stop fussing over a man. Especially one as busy as Adrian.”

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Amelia took a careful sip of her tea, the warmth spreading through her.

“This isn’t just fussing. This was something Hazel wanted, Clara. A dinner on his birthday. Adrian promised he would be there, and then he didn’t show up.” Her voice sharpened, the edge of her frustration evident.

Clara blew gently on her tea before taking a sip, unfazed by Amelia’s agitation.

“At least you know what keeps him away… work, and sometimes the boys,” she replied evenly. “Unlike Leonard…” Her words trailed off with a light laugh, as if the mere mention of her husband’s name was a punchline that needed no further explanation.

Amelia shook her head, her expression serious.

“That’s not a good enough reason, Clara. Not for missing dinner with his own daughter on her birthday. I don’t care if it’s work or the boys; Hazel deserved better.”

The atmosphere around the table became heavy with silence, punctuated only by the faint ticking of the wall clock and the distant giggles of neighborhood children playing outside.

Clara leaned in, resting her chin on her palm, her voice lowering.

“Marriage is a battlefield, Amelia. You fight, you patch things up, you forgive, and then you do it all over again.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Amelia replied, her tone laced with weariness.

“It is,” Clara chuckled dryly, a hint of resignation in her voice. “Especially when you’re trying to run a household. You know how it is—cleaning up after everyone, chasing after the kids, squeezing in your own work, and then, after the day’s chaos, you’re expected to look like some goddess at night, waiting for your husband.”

Amelia couldn’t help but let her lips twitch into a reluctant smile at the truth of Clara’s words.

“You sound like you’re speaking from a very personal place.”

Clara scoffed lightly.

“Of course I am. It’s even more tedious for me, considering how many kids I have to cater to. By the time Leonard strolls in, I’m already half-asleep. But he still expects the smiles, the attention, the intimacy… as if I’ve been lounging in silk sheets all day doing nothing.”

“That’s exactly how I feel,” Amelia confessed, her voice softening. “Managing this house, making sure Hazel is okay, keeping up with my own projects… Sometimes I wonder if Adrian even sees the effort I put in. Or if it all just goes unnoticed because he’s too busy chasing deadlines.”

Clara reached across the table, her fingers brushing against Amelia’s hand in a gesture of solidarity.

“He sees it. Men may not always voice it, but they notice. Trust me, when you stop doing all those little things, that’s when they start to panic.”

Amelia let out a faint laugh, the tension easing just a bit.

“Maybe I should try that. Just stop doing everything for a while and see what happens.”

Clara grinned, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You wouldn’t last a day. You’re far too stubborn to sit back and watch your house fall apart.”

The two women shared a light laugh, the tension between them dissolving like sugar in tea. For the first time that afternoon, Amelia felt a little lighter, as if the steam rising from her cup was carrying away some of the heaviness that had settled in her chest.

Yet, thoughts of Adrian loomed in the back of her mind—his absence, his promises, and the promises that had fallen through. The laughter faded into a sigh, and she whispered, almost to herself, “Clara, I just want him to show up. For once, I want him to show up without me or Hazel having to beg for it, even if it inconveniences him.”

Clara didn’t rush to fill the silence this time; she simply nodded, her expression softening with understanding.

“And one day, he will. But until that day comes, Amelia, you have to keep showing up for yourself.”

“Mmm. Indeed,” Amelia murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Suddenly, Clara stiffened in her chair, her hand flying to her waistline, her face contorting with a grimace of pain. Amelia froze mid-sip, her eyes widening in alarm as she watched her friend squirm in discomfort.

“Clara? Hey, Clara, what’s wrong?” Amelia leaned forward, her voice tinged with panic.

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