Semua Bab Divorce After Betrayal Ex-Wife Revenge : Bab 161 - Bab 170

“What do you mean… he accepted the offer?”Sandra stood frozen, clutching the tablet tightly in her hands, an unreadable expression on her face. Evelyn stared at the screen, where a promotional article flashed the headline: Clarissa & Haruki: Art Beyond Borders—a global campaign launch. In the featured image, Haruki stood beside Clarissa, smiling, with the logo of a prestigious international fashion art house glowing behind them.“It was just announced this morning,” Sandra said quietly. Then she handed Evelyn a printed email. “And this… is the official invitation to the launch event next week.”Evelyn shook her head slowly, as if her mind refused to process what was right in front of her.“So he accepted... without saying anything to me?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.Sandra lowered her gaze. “I thought he’d talk to you first. But Clarissa moves fast. She knows exactly how to lure someone like Haruki.”Evelyn turned toward the studio window. Her eyes were blank, but inside her, a

“Are you sure you want to do this alone?” Sandra asked, watching Evelyn sit at her studio desk, surrounded by stacks of sketches and the application forms for the design residency program in France.Evelyn looked down at the sheet of paper in her hand and gave a slow nod. “I’ve waited long enough for others to decide my path. This time... I want to walk it on my own.”The autumn wind brushed against the studio windows, making the white curtains sway gently. The room was quiet—unusually so. There was no laughter from Haruki, no scent of William’s coffee. Only the ticking of the clock and the sound of Evelyn’s pencil moving across linen paper.It had been a week since she ended things with Haruki. There had been no shouting, no arguments—just a long silence, the kind that wraps itself around the end of a love built on secrets.Now, she had decided to apply for La Résidence d’Artisanat Moderne—a prestigious program for artists and designers from around the world. One seat. One chance. On

“This isn’t my place… but maybe it’s time she knew.”Sandra held the brown envelope with hesitation. Her hands trembled—not from fear, but from the weight of what the envelope contained. The letter had been in her possession for a while. William had given it to her a week after Evelyn ended their relationship—with a clear instruction:“Don’t give it to her… unless you feel she deserves to know everything.”Now, with Evelyn preparing to leave Japan for her international residency program, Sandra knew the time had come.---At the studio, Evelyn was rearranging her design collection for tomorrow’s media preview. The overhead lamp cast a soft yellow light on her face—tired, but still elegant. When the door knocked, she didn’t turn.“Sandra, did you forget the coffee again?” she called out with a faint smile.But this time, Sandra entered with a different expression—serious. In silence, she walked over and placed the envelope on Evelyn’s desk.“What’s this?” Evelyn asked, her brow furrowi

Sunlight poured through the tall studio windows, dancing across the wooden table scattered with paint tubes, pencils, and sheets of untitled sketches. The atmosphere was quiet, broken only by the soft sound of a brush gliding against canvas.Evelyn sat alone, her hair casually pinned up, eyes focused on an unfinished painting. That morning felt light—like a blank page untouched by the ink of the past. But the soft buzz of her phone vibrating on the nearby table shattered the stillness.She sighed quietly and glanced at the screen. The name appeared—so familiar, yet now distant: Haruki.The message was short. Just one paragraph. Simple.And final.> “Evelyn, I’m writing this from Amsterdam. Not to come back—only to apologize for my foolishness and greed. Thank you for making me feel like I mattered, even when I couldn’t protect it. I hope you’re happy, with or without me. —Haruki.”Evelyn stared at the screen for a long moment. There was no rush of emotion. No tears.Just calm. Still.

His footsteps were heavy but steady as William stepped into the spotlight-filled exhibition hall. Milan Design Week—where designers from all over the world competed to showcase fragments of their souls through art. But William wasn’t there to follow trends, nor as an investor—he came simply as someone who still loved in silence.A black hat shielded part of his face, and dark sunglasses helped him blend into the chaos of international press and curious crowds. He stood quietly at the back of the room, immersed in the hum of visitors. Ahead of him, the main stage glowed under white lights, and standing in the center—was Evelyn.She wore a simple black suit, her hair pinned neatly, her gaze calm yet fierce. There was a new stillness in her movements, a maturity in the way she introduced each piece. These creations—each one spoke of recovery, of pain, of hope. All of them… were stories born from her journey.William drew in a long breath. His heart beat faster as the necklace Vita Dopo i