Semua Bab Ex-Husband's Love Comes After Divorce : Bab 121 - Bab 130

Silence hung thick in the air—so heavy it felt as if the entire restaurant had sunk into a frozen void. Moments ago, the room had been filled with warm lights, soft music, and gentle conversation. Now, all that warmth evaporated, replaced by a chilling tension that gnawed at every corner. The dim lamps flickered as the night wind seeped through the cracks, and at the center of a table now cluttered with overturned glasses and scattered napkins stood “Mira”—or rather, Revania—her breaths uneven.“Mira…” Argan called her name softly, his voice cracking like fragile glass. “What… what are they talking about?”Revania tried to smile, but her lips stiffened, the expression collapsing before it could fully form. “Argan… they’re lying. They’re just trying to ruin our night.”Damien took a step forward. “She’s lying.”Revania’s glare shot at him like daggers, but its sharpness failed to reach its target. Damien had already seen everything—her trembling pupils, her erratic breaths, the panic s

The grand Dirgantara mansion was still awake when Revania barged through the front door, her breath hitching, her eyes wild. The servants startled at the sudden slam, exchanging panicked glances as she marched inside like a storm ready to tear everything apart.Her heels echoed sharply against the marble floor—clack, clack, clack—each step fueled by humiliation, heartbreak, and rage that burned hotter than anything she had ever felt. The moment she entered the living room, she stopped abruptly.There—on the walls, on the shelves, in the frames—were photographs of her.The old her.The face she hated.The woman she had buried.Her chest tightened painfully. Every smiling picture felt like a mockery, a reminder of the life that had never been enough to win Argan’s heart.“Take them down,” she whispered, her voice shaking.No one moved.Revania’s eyes widened. “I said TAKE THEM DOWN!”She grabbed the nearest frame and hurled it against the wall. Glass shattered into a hundred glittering

The lights in Revania’s private room were dim, casting sharp shadows across the walls, turning the entire space into a silent battlefield of broken emotions. The shattered remains of a perfume bottle still glittered on the floor—remnants of her earlier rage—but Revania no longer noticed them. Her mind was elsewhere.Her heart was burning.All her life, she had believed one thing with absolute certainty:If she loved hard enough, fought hard enough, sacrificed enough… Argan would be hers.But now?Now that illusion had been ripped from her hands like a cruel joke.Argan had rejected her.Not because she wasn’t beautiful enough.Not because she wasn’t perfect enough.But because Devia existed.Devia, with her soft voice and undeserved innocence.Devia, who had “stolen” Argan’s heart without even trying.Revania clenched her jaw, her nails digging into her palms until they hurt.She used to think her love was unbreakable.She used to think she would wait forever.But love had twisted—rot

The morning breeze drifted through the open window of Devia’s small apartment, carrying the faint scent of rain. Devia stood in the kitchen, tying her hair into a loose knot while trying to finish a quick breakfast. Her baby’s soft cooing filled the room, a soundtrack that brought her both comfort and a reminder of her new responsibilities.She was just about to lift the pan from the stove when the doorbell rang.She blinked.Damien never came this early.Wiping her hands on a towel, Devia opened the door—and immediately froze.“Rama?” Her voice rose in surprise.Rama stood in the hallway, dressed in his usual dark jacket, hair damp from the morning drizzle. His expression was serious—too serious for a casual visit.“Morning,” he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “We need to talk.”Devia frowned, closing the door. “Is something wrong?”Rama scanned the room quickly, as if checking for danger. His movements were sharp, protective—unsettling.He turned back to her

Argan sat in the dimly lit study of his penthouse, the rain tapping softly against the windows like an unending whisper. The city outside was alive, but inside, everything felt unbearably still. His eyes, bloodshot from sleepless nights, were fixed on the photograph in his hand—a picture of Almira smiling under the sun, her hair caught by the breeze, her gaze warm and filled with hope.A hope he failed to protect.He squeezed the frame until his knuckles turned white. For years, he had buried her memory under layers of work, anger, and denial. He thought he had moved on, believed himself capable of loving again. But now he knew the truth: he had never healed. He had simply learned to function with the wound.And that open wound had made him vulnerable—fragile enough to be manipulated, deceived, blinded.Revania’s face, molded perfectly to resemble Almira, had struck him like a ghost returning from the grave. A ghost he desperately wanted to believe was real.Argan closed his eyes, for