Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 38

THE kitchen seemed to shrink the moment Hazel stepped in.

She stood by the doorway, school bag still slung over one shoulder, eyes fixed on the sight in front of her— her mother and… and Charles standing close, sharing a space that suddenly felt too intimate, too settled. Her brows knit together, lips pressing into a thin line.

Well, she shrugged. He was her fiancé.

“Good evening,” she muttered under her breath, the greeting barely audible.

Without waiting for a response, she walked straight to the refrigerator, pulled it open with more force than necessary, and grabbed a pack of juice. She fetched a glass from the cabinet, her movements sharp, clipped. The sound of the fridge door closing echoed louder than it should have.

Amelia exhaled softly.

Sensing the shift, she slid her right arm around Charles’s left arm, her fingers curling reassuringly against him. It was subtle and instinctive, an unspoken ‘I’m here’.

She lifted her voice, light, warm.

“Hey, Hazel,” she said. “I didn’t realize you were still out?”

Hazel didn’t look at her.

“Well, now, you know,” she replied vaguely as she walked to the sink to rinse the glass, eyes fixed on the stream of water.

The tension clung to the air like humidity before a storm.

“Hazel,” Charles called gently, trying. “It is good to see you.”

She scoffed, a quiet, humorless sound.

“It’s bad for me,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

Juice poured into the glass. She snapped the cap shut, turned, and started toward the hallway.

Amelia forced a smile.

“Hazel,” she said calmly, “Charles is speaking to you.”

Hazel stopped mid-step.

For a brief moment, no one moved. Then she turned, just enough to glance over her shoulder, her expression carefully neutral.

“I heard him,” she said coolly. “I just don’t always have the energy to respond to everyone.”

And with that, she walked out of the kitchen.

The sound of her footsteps faded down the hall.

Silence followed.

Charles let out a slow breath and shrugged, trying to play it off even as disappointment flickered across his face.

“It is obvious she still doesn’t like me.”

Amelia immediately turned to face him, her hands coming up to rest on his chest.

“Oh no, babe, don’t say that,” she said softly. “It’s not about you.”

He gave a small, humorless smile.

“It usually is.”

She shook her head firmly.

“She is adjusting. That is all. Hazel has always been… protective. Especially of me.”

“I wonder when she will finally get to accept me,” he said quietly.

Amelia reached up, cupping his face so he had no choice but to look at her.

“She will,” she said with certainty. “Hazel doesn’t hate you. She is just scared of change.”

“And of me?” he asked lightly.

She smiled, brushing her thumb along his jaw.

“No. Of losing what she knows. Of things shifting. Give her time.”

He studied her for a moment, then nodded.

“For you, I can do that.”

Her smile softened.

“Thank you.”

The moment lingered, until the faint bubbling from the pot reminded them they were still cooking.

Amelia laughed quietly.

“See? We almost burned dinner.”

Charles chuckled, turning back to the stove.

“That would have been a terrible first ‘try’ impression.”

They moved together again, finishing up in comfortable silence this time. Amelia plated the food while Charles wiped down the counter, their earlier ease slowly returning, though the edge of tension hadn’t completely disappeared.

When everything was ready, Charles picked up two plates.

“Dining room?”

Amelia nodded.

“Yeah.”

They walked in and set the plates down, pulling out chairs and sitting across from each other, the glow from the chandelier casting a warm light over the table.

For now, at least, they chose to eat, and let the night settle where it may.

***

The playground buzzed with noise— laughter, shouts, the thud of a ball against concrete, but Hazel barely noticed any of it.

She sat on one of the low swings, her feet dragging absent-mindedly across the sand as she spoke, voice low but edged with emotion.

“You know, I just kind of have my own fears for him. I can’t accept him,” she said.

Amaka, seated on the bench beside her, paused mid-bite of her meat pie and turned slowly.

“Ah. So it’s that serious?”

Hazel nodded, pushing herself gently back and forth.

“It is. Very serious.”

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