Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 360

“Father, is it really impossible to leave the mountain tonight?” In the dimly lit side chapel, Mila frowned, her voice tight with urgency as she questioned the priest before her.

She’d finally gotten the signed divorce papers. All she wanted now was to get down the mountain, return to Kingsford as fast as possible, and go with Lysander to city hall to make the divorce official. Only then would the thirty-day waiting period begin—and the sooner, the better.

But when Mila tried to leave, the priest stopped her.

He explained that the temperature had plummeted, a heavy snow had cut them off, the phone signal was gone, and the stone steps down the mountain were frozen solid. Evening had already fallen, and it would be dangerous to attempt the descent before morning.

After asking several times, Mila had to relent. She’d wait one more night, though she couldn’t shake her nerves—because Lysander and Leonard were stranded up here too.

Just in case, Mila slipped the signed divorce agreement into a waterproof pouch, tucked it securely into her shoulder bag, and kept it with her wherever she went.

She dined with the priest, forcing herself to stay awake despite her exhaustion. She tried to keep up a lively conversation, discussing scripture and listening to his stories, determined not to be left alone—not after what she’d been through with those two men. She was too wary of them to risk it.

“It’s late. If you’re tired, you should try to rest,” the priest finally suggested. The candles flickered softly in the side chapel, and he watched as Mila swayed, her eyes unfocused.

“I’m fine. I’m not tired at all.” Mila pinched her thigh, then took a strong sip of black tea.

“I’m tired,” the priest replied, shaking his head with a wry smile.

“Oh—sorry, sorry! I’ll get out of your way.” Embarrassed, Mila stood up quickly, but suddenly her knees buckled, her vision swam, and she collapsed onto the table.

Her teacup toppled to the floor.

The side door creaked open. Lysander strode in, his dark cloak billowing behind him. Without hesitation, he scooped her up in his arms, wrapped her tight, and carried her out.

The priest, sitting quietly at the table, didn’t so much as blink. He lowered his gaze, silent and unsurprised. But just as Lysander reached the door, the priest murmured, “My son, all obsessions are illusions that lead only to ruin. I pray you turn back before it’s too late.”

Lysander paused, but didn’t look back. He gave a low, almost mocking laugh. “And how do you know, Father, that I haven’t already been living in hell?”

There was no turning back now.

Night had settled over the chapel corridor. Lysander carried Mila through the swirling snow, striding toward a guest room that had already been prepared for them.

He laid her gently on the bed and loosened her clothes. Then he climbed in beside her—not to do anything more, but to pull the blanket up around her and lie on his side, watching her as she slept. Only at times like this did she seem so gentle, so peaceful, so obedient—a side of Mila he hadn’t seen in so long, and he couldn’t help but drink it in.