A tightness gripped Alicia’s chest, and a sharp, breath-stealing ache followed.
Tyrone—he was just a decent man, wasn’t he? No matter who was playing the part of his wife today, he’d still be this thoughtful.
“I won’t be able to make it back until next Wednesday at the earliest,” Tyrone said. Four more days.
Alicia lowered her voice. “You don’t have to rush. I can handle things here.”
Even if the old man really did show up, this was a hotel. As long as she refused, he couldn’t force her to leave.
“If anything happens, call me right away.”
“Alright…” Warmth crept into Alicia’s heart.
She really liked this feeling—the sense that someone had her back.
On the other end, Tyrone fell silent for a long time. He didn’t say goodbye, didn’t suggest hanging up. It was as if there was so much he wanted to say, but he kept swallowing the words.
Finally, half-joking, he asked, “Did you miss me?”
Alicia froze, her fingers curling tight.
Did she miss him?
Truthfully… she missed him a lot.
“I’m speeding up the handover of my work here. I’m hoping… next year, I can start shifting my focus overseas, spend more time with you in Italy,” Tyrone said quietly.
Alicia’s eyes widened; her heart thudded wildly.
He… always said things that made her misunderstand.
“By… by next year, will we… will we still not be divorced?” Alicia’s voice trembled, her nose stinging.
She always ended up like this—so exposed, so vulnerable.
Back when she was with Vincent, he’d given her the same illusions, made her believe—just for a moment—that he loved her.
“The Lynch family doesn’t allow children to be born out of wedlock. As long as you have a Lynch heir, no matter what, you can’t file for divorce for three years,” Tyrone said after a long pause, his tone solemn as if reciting a family rule.
“….” Alicia blinked in confusion. Why did these family rules keep changing?
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