Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 310

But Mila captured the sweeping scenery with her camera, imprinting it just as firmly in her memory.

The car kept moving forward.

The canyon was steep, shrouded in mist that drifted across the peaks. They drove through dense patches of forest, surrounded by the music of trickling streams and the chorus of birds and insects—a symphony of the wild.

Archie glanced at Mila, who was filming out the window, and couldn’t help but tease, “Hey, Mila, don’t just record the scenery! Get some shots of me looking heroic. When this is over, I’m printing them out and covering my whole wall!”

After all, this was his first real adventure—something worth bragging about for years. He imagined dragging future guests over to admire his daring feats. Even his dad would have to give him a thumbs-up.

At first, Mila just ignored his chatter, letting him prattle on. When he finally quieted down, she spun around and snapped several candid shots of him, which made Archie howl in protest.

“Mila! Why didn’t you warn me? I could’ve struck my coolest pose! Come on, do it again—just one more shot!”

How much cooler could he possibly look?

Mila stifled a laugh and didn’t reply. Her face looked more relaxed than it had in days.

The route through Esterbrook was easy enough, and soon the car emerged from the canyon and rolled into their next stop: Fortescue City—the gateway to the mountain pass.

They’d set out late that afternoon. By the time they arrived, darkness had fallen, and a light rain had begun to mist the roads. It wasn’t safe to drive when tired, especially at night.

This town was a crossroads, where different worlds met.

Neither of them was picky about accommodations. They found a small motel, checked in, washed up, and collapsed onto their beds, exhaustion dragging them into heavy sleep.

. . .

Northpoint University, Project Office.

The room was spacious, partitioned into several work areas crammed with computers and oversized monitors.

At the moment, only one person was inside.

Mila sat in a corner cubicle, eyes fixed on the sea of colorful code across her screen, fingers flying over the keyboard.

A gentle voice sounded behind her. “Why aren’t you at lunch?”