When Love Breaks by jack novel Chapter 211

Chapter 211 

Before heading out to the city hall, Christine grabbed me by the shoulders, giving my lips a coat of bold red lipstick. “Big celebrations call for bright and fiery vibes. There you go!” 

After applying it, she looked satisfied, waving me off with a smile. I couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a sudden lift in my spirits. Indeed, wasn’t this what I had been longing for? 

I perked up and went out, arriving at the town hall at 2 PM. 

After waiting for him countless times over three years, I wasn’t keen on doing it again. Yet, as I stepped out of the car, there was no sign of Bryant. It seemed I was waiting for him once more. 

Thankfully, he didn’t keep me waiting for too long. A few minutes later, a tall figure stepped out of a sleek black Maybach. His presence was imposing, and his gaze icy, clearly in a foul mood. 

Since we headed toward divorce, he’d stopped hiding his true self. Gone was the gentle and reserved facade he used to put up. 

However, he wasn’t alone. Two more figures emerged from the car. Arm in arm with Teresa, Margaret followed behind Bryant, oblivious that he was aware of their petty schemes. 

Ignoring them, Bryant walked straight up to me without pause. “You were so eager for a divorce, weren’t you? Let’s get on with it then.” 

“Oh.” I glanced at Teresa and Margaret behind him and smirked, “What’s this? Planning on swapping your divorce papers for a marriage license today, are you? You’re going out of your way to prevent your dad from being charged with bigamy.” 

His eyes narrowed, his voice flat, “Were you so sarcastic before?” 

“I used to love you, remember?” 

How deeply I loved him, to the point where I lost myself. How could I bear to utter harsh words to him?, 

He paused, his emotions unreadable in the dim light of the town hall. “And now? You don’t love me at all?” 

His tone was so indifferent as if he was asking if I wasn’t the slightest bit hungry. 

Caught off guard by his question, I looked away to hide my feelings. I pointed to the ticket machine as we reached the town hall’s entrance. “I’ll go get a number.” 

“No need.” His voice barely faded when a middle–aged man in a sharp suit approached us from the office area. “Mr. Ferguson, right this way, please.” 

“Right.” With a slight nod, Bryant glanced at me, his words cutting, “Aren’t you in a hurry? Let’s save you some time in the queue then.” I couldn’t help but smile. “I never realized how considerate you could be.” 

Unlike the sarcasm he’d thrown earlier, my praise was genuine.