Ruby felt a bit uncomfortable, but she reminded herself it was for their own good. Especially Karl and Adrian, who had already started partying on the spot, their excitement making her feel even more confident that her decision was the right one.
She wasn’t wrong—not at all.
Carrying her bags, Ruby retreated to her room. Once inside, she set everything down and grabbed her sketchbook, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Her eyes lingered on an old sketch she had drawn, her fingers brushing over the page as if drawing strength from it.
Spreading out her fabrics around her, she thought hard, her mind buzzing with ideas. Picking up a pencil, she began to make a rough sketch, her brows furrowed in focus. She had already bought everything she needed, and now it was time to bring her vision to life.
Julian wiped his tears as the persistent knocking on the door started to irritate him. With a deep sigh, he got up and opened it, only to find Milo standing there, his brown eyes filled with worry.
"What do you want?" Julian asked, his voice low. Seeing Milo’s concerned expression, a pang of guilt hit him. He felt bad for harboring jealousy toward Milo, but the feeling refused to leave.
Why was Ruby willing to accept Milo but not him?
He stepped aside, letting Milo in. Milo quietly closed the door behind him, but before Julian could say anything, Milo suddenly wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug.
"Please, don’t cry. Don’t cry, Brother Julian. I can’t bear to see you ," Milo said, his voice trembling. Tears welled up in his honey-colored eyes as he held Julian tightly. Pulling back slightly, he added with determination, "We’ll talk to her. We’ll make her listen."
"No... don’t," Julian quickly shook his head, his voice firm. He wiped his tears once more and forced a small smile.
Milo’s hug felt oddly comforting, like a balm to his broken heart. And for a moment, the bitterness inside him softened.
"She’s not actually divorcing me right now," Braking hug, Julian said after a pause, his tone more thoughtful. "Besides, what’s really different before and after? It’s not like we’ve ever had a real husband-and-wife relationship."
Hearing those words, Milo’s cheeks flushed. He averted his gaze, suddenly feeling shy. "What... what are you saying? You... you..." he stammered, struggling to respond.
Julian raised an eyebrow, catching Milo’s reaction but choosing not to comment. Instead, he smiled faintly, the heaviness in his heart lightened just a little.
"I mean... I’ll make my wife fall in love with me," he said, staring off as if deep in thought. "I’ll get her used to my presence, make her comfortable around me... while keeping some distance." He paused, his tone calm but his mind clearly working through the plan. "It’s the best way... I think," he added, almost as if convincing himself.
"I don’t want to live without you, Karl, and Adrian..." Milo said, his voice shaking slightly. "What should we do? Both of them are ready to divorce wife, and I’m... I’m feeling so worried," he admitted, his hands clenched tightly in his lap as his anxious eyes darted back and forth.
Levi reached his house, and as his eyes fell on the small, Wooden, a pang of regret washed over him. He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. I don’t deserve this small house. I deserve a big house... a grand one, he thought bitterly.
Just as he opened the door and stepped inside, a loud voice greeted him, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"What the heck, Levi? Move out of the way!" his father, Jonas, barked from the corner of the room.
Levi frowned, already feeling irritable after the day he’d had. "What’s wrong now?" he muttered, his tone sharp as he threw his bags onto a nearby chair.
Jonas stormed over, pointing a finger at the wet floor. "Are you blind, or did you not see that I just mopped the floor? You’re tracking dirt all over it!" he scolded, his frustration evident in his voice.
Levi sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It’s just the floor, Dad," he mumbled under his breath, but the irritation in his voice was clear.
Jonas wasn’t having it. "It’s not just the floor, Levi. You don’t respect anything! Not this house, not the effort I put into keeping it clean!"
Levi glared at his father for a moment, his shoulders stiff. He wanted to argue, but instead, he simply looked away, muttering under his breath as he walked to his room.
"Why are you scolding my little ghost?" Grace’s voice floated into the living room as she entered, her hands wiping on her sleeves. She gave Jonas a stern look, her soft features crinkling with mild disapproval.
Jonas threw up his hands in frustration. "Because your ’little ghost’ just walked all over my freshly mopped floor!" he exclaimed, pointing at the light muddy footprints trailing into the house.
"Mom! Dad is scolding me for nothing!" Levi’s shouted from his room.
Grace sighed and shook her head. "Jonas, it’s just a floor. It’ll dry," she said dismissively, heading toward Levi’s room.
Behind her, Jonas muttered angrily under his breath, ’Damn! I hate doing chores. I regret marrying Julian—now I’m stuck doing everything around here.’
Grace ignored his grumbling and opened Levi’s door quietly. Inside, she found him lying lifelessly on his bed, sprawled on his stomach. His face was buried in his pillow, and the faint rise and fall of his back was the only sign he was still awake.
She walked in and sat on the edge of the bed, placing a gentle hand on his back. "Levi, what’s wrong, my little ghost?" she asked softly, her tone laced with concern.
Levi groaned but didn’t move. "Nothing, Mom. Just tired," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow.
Grace rubbed his back soothingly. "You’ve been acting strange since you came home. Tell me, what’s bothering you? I’m your mother, I’ll understand," she coaxed gently, her heart aching to see her usually lively son so drained.
—To be continued...🪄