When I stayed silent for too long, Ashton’s patience began to waver. “Say something,” he demanded.
I bit my lip, feeling a pang of bitterness. His attitude toward me had shifted dramatically now that his first love had returned.
“I moved out—”
“Who told you to move out?” Ashton interrupted before I could finish.
A wave of frustration welled up in me. “Mallory is back. It doesn’t feel right for me to stay.”
He seemed to sigh, and his voice softened as he said, “Pip, come back.”
Every time Ashton wanted to persuade me, he would use that same tone. It was gentle, almost coaxing, and hard to resist. For a moment, I nearly gave in, but I held myself back. “Ashton, we’re getting a divorce.”
His voice suddenly turned angry. “We’re not divorced yet!”
I flinched at his outburst, and my chest was hurting. “Why are you yelling?! I’m the one being abandoned here! I should be angry, not you!” I shouted back at him, my voice breaking into sobs.
Hearing me cry seemed to throw Ashton off. “I’m sorry, Pip. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
Once I started crying, I could not stop. All of my emotions spilled over, and my sobs grew louder.
I heard faint shuffling noises on the other end of the line, but I could not tell what he was doing. Then, his voice came through, soft and steady. “Where are you? I’ll come get you.”
That was how Ashton was standing at my door 20 minutes later. Seeing my swollen, tear-streaked eyes, he pulled me into his arms without saying a word. In the end, I did not go back home. Instead, Ashton stayed with me at the hotel.
I did not ask where Mallory was. I only wanted him to be mine, just for a little longer.
Watching him sleep peacefully, I gently brushed my fingers through his hair while whispering silently in my heart, “Baby, this might be the last time you’re this close to your dad. Remember him well.”
The next day, I accompanied Ashton back to the Wallace family’s estate.
Ashton’s parents agreed to our divorce, but Ashton’s grandfather, Elliott, absolutely refused.
Apparently, I bore a slight resemblance to Ashton’s late grandmother in her youth, and because of that, Elliott had always been particularly fond of me as his granddaughter-in-law.
When he heard about the divorce, Elliott struck Ashton’s leg hard with his cane. “You want a divorce? Fine! Wait till I’m dead!”
I winced at the sound, my heart aching for Ashton, but he did not even flinch.
When we left the estate, Ashton did not start the car right away. Instead, he rolled down the window halfway, retrieved a pack of cigarettes from the glove compartment, and pulled one out with practiced ease.
The burning tip glowed faintly red as he brought it to his lips. Smoke curled around him, veiling his face in a hazy mist that even I could barely see him.
Ashton rarely smoked—only when he was troubled or facing something particularly difficult.
