All Chapters of Dear Ex-husband, I Don't Love You Anymore : Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

The bonfire was already alive when they arrived. Not roaring. Not wild. Just a steady breathing thing in the center of the clearing, flames licking upward in soft oranges and golds, embers drifting lazily into the night like fireflies that had forgotten where they were going.People gathered in loose circles. Logs dragged closer. Laughter floated without urgency. Someone passed around cups. The air smelled like smoke and pine and something sweet that reminded Diana of childhood nights she could not fully place.She sat beside Mikhail on a low log, close enough that their thighs touched, close enough that she could feel the heat of him even with the fire between them. His arm came around her without ceremony, heavy and familiar, resting across her shoulders like it had always belonged there.The tour guide clapped his hands once, smiling too wide, voice carrying easily over the crackle of flames. “Tonight we relax. Tomorrow morning we stretch,” he said, amused by the groans that follo

Mikhail asked if I wanted dinner like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.The sun was already sinking, turning the edges of the camp gold and soft, but his voice was tight when he said it, careful. He stood near the small cooking area, sleeves rolled, knives sheathed at his hip. He did not look at me at first.“I want to cook,” he said.I blinked. “Are you sure?”He nodded immediately, firm, almost too fast. “Yes.”There was something about the way he said it that made my chest ache. Like he needed the answer to stay yes, like if I questioned it again he might unravel. He reached for the pan, metal clinking softly, and I saw it then. His hands were shaking.Not violently. Not enough that anyone else would notice if they were not looking for it. But I was looking. I always was.“Mikhail,” I said quietly.He paused, fingers tightening around the handle. His knuckles went pale.“I’m fine,” he said, a little too quickly. Then slower, more honest. “I need this to ground me. It’s

Diana steps out of the tree line and into the clearing like she has already accepted that whatever waits for her will hurt. Her chest feels tight and tears threaten to blur her vision. She stops walking and looks back, to where her man is waiting for her to return with her second shoe. What would he do when he realised that she left? Would he come looking for her, would he hate her? The thought of Mikhail hating her felt like a wound to her chest that would never heal. She took a step back and stopped again. Audrey would die. She did not care about Audrey, she just didn't want anyone she knew to die. Not anymore. She walked forward and brushed the tears away from her eyes with force. She was choosing to let someone live. She would go to Jaylen and explain to him that she's fine. She would tell him to leave and to return Audrey and then she'd come back to Mikhail and beg for forgiveness. For keeping this from him even when they promised to tell each other everything. He would forgi

My head throbs too bad. I snap awake and try to sit up but my limbs are heavy and immovable. It feels like I've been covered in cement and left to dry. I look around, the room is dark and very familiar. Too familiar. I don't remember anything except waking up in the forest and fighting with Jaylen to take me back. My neck burns, a particular spot throbs and when I lift my hand to massage it, there's a sting from a syringe. Did he drug me again? The door opens and Blade is holding a tray. “You're awake.” He says softly, as if he's speaking to a wounded animal. I try to sit up again. “It might take time for the drugs to clear out from your system.” he says apologetically. My throat is sore. “Where is Jaylen?” Blade looks hesitant. “He left.” I almost laugh, it always happens, he always leaves. “Why did he drug me?” “You wouldn't stop screaming, don't you remember?” Blade tilts his head as if observing me from a different angle would change the way he sees me. I don't re

The fever comes first.It is sharp and sudden, like a blade pressed beneath my skin. I wake with my sheets damp and twisted around my legs, my body aching as though I have been beaten from the inside. My head throbs in slow heavy pulses and when I try to sit up, the room tilts violently to the left.I fall back with a gasp.For a moment I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, counting my breaths. In. Out. In. Out. My chest feels tight, like something heavy is sitting on it. Sweat slides down my temple and into my hair.The drugs, I think immediately.Jaylen. The injections. The way my arm burned afterward, the way my head swam for hours. This has to be the after effects. Poison still moving through my blood, lingering because my body is weaker than I want to admit.A spike of fear cuts through me so fast it almost clears my head.What if I die here.The thought lands fully formed and cruel. What if my body gives out in this house, behind locked doors, surrounded by people who do not