After the Divorce, My Billionaire Husband Lost His Mind のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

The drive home felt wrong.Too quiet.Too normal.Rain tapped softly against the windows of the car while the city blurred past outside in gray streaks.Beside me, Elara sat curled carefully beneath a blanket despite the warmth inside the vehicle.One hand rested unconsciously over her stomach again.A habit she still hadn’t broken.Every time I noticed it—Something inside me cracked all over again.I kept watching her.Constantly.Too constantly.“You’re staring,” she murmured weakly without opening her eyes.“I know.”“You’ve checked if I’m breathing at least six times.”“Seven.”That finally earned the faintest tired smile from her.Progress.Tiny, fragile progress.The doctors discharged her this morning with enough medication and instructions to overwhelm an entire medical team.No stress.No overexertion.Careful monitoring.Immediate reporting of chest pain or dizziness.Every warning sentence carved fresh fear into me.Because now I understood how quickly life could collapse.

The next few days passed strangely.Not fast.Not slow.Just blurred together beneath grief and exhaustion.People sent flowers constantly.Sympathy baskets.Condolence notes.Messages filled with carefully arranged words that somehow never touched the actual shape of pain.Thinking of you.So sorry for your loss.Praying for healing.As if healing was a destination instead of survival.Most of the arrangements stayed untouched near the entrance.Elara couldn’t look at them.Honestly, neither could I.The apartment smelled permanently like lilies now.The irony felt cruel.I stood in the kitchen one morning making coffee when I realized something strange.I couldn’t remember the last time work crossed my mind first after waking up.For years my life revolved around schedules.Meetings.Acquisitions.Numbers.Now?My first thought every morning was:Is Elara breathing normally?My second was:How much is she hurting today?Everything else felt secondary.Distant.I carried a cup of tea

Grief made us gentler with each other.Until suddenly—It didn’t.The fight started over medication.Which somehow made it worse.“You missed your afternoon dose.”Elara didn’t even look up from the couch.“I’ll take it later.”“You were supposed to take it an hour ago.”A sharp sigh left her immediately.“Julian.”The warning in her voice should’ve told me to stop.It didn’t.“You can’t just ignore recovery instructions.”“I’m not ignoring them.”“You forgot again yesterday too.”That got her attention instantly.Her eyes lifted toward mine.Tired.Frustrated.“I said I would take it.”“And I’m reminding you because your heart literally stopped.”The room went silent immediately.Too silent.Because there it was.The thing we both avoided saying too directly.Her expression changed instantly.Closing off.“I know what happened to me.”My chest tightened.“Then stop acting careless.”The second the words left my mouth—I regretted them.Elara stood abruptly from the couch.“Careless?”

I forgot our anniversary.Not the date.Never the date.The meaning.It hit me halfway through the morning when I walked into the kitchen and found flowers already sitting on the counter.White roses.Elara’s favorite.My chest tightened immediately.Because I hadn’t ordered them.For years—I always ordered them.Exactly at midnight.Every anniversary.It was one of the few traditions I never failed.And this year?Grief erased the entire week from my mind.I stared at the flowers too long.Long enough for Elara to notice when she entered the kitchen slowly.“You look betrayed by vegetation,” she murmured softly.I looked toward her instantly.And guilt hit hard.“Happy anniversary.”The words came rough.Late.Wrong.Understanding flickered across her face immediately.“Oh.”Not angry.Somehow worse.Just soft understanding.“You forgot.”“I—”The explanation died halfway out.Because there wasn’t one.Not a good one anyway.Elara leaned lightly against the counter.Still pale somet

Three days after the gala, I found Elara crying in the nursery again.At first, I thought it was another grief wave.Another memory.Another impossible moment of missing someone who should have been here.Then I saw the notebook in her lap.And the pen.“Elara?”She looked up immediately.Startled.Like she'd been caught doing something private.Very private.A tear slid down her cheek.“I didn't hear you come in.”I moved toward her slowly.The nursery remained unchanged.Still suspended in time.Still waiting for someone who would never arrive.Some people might have called that unhealthy.I didn't care.Grief wasn't something you optimized.It was something you carried.I sat beside her carefully on the floor.“What are you writing?”Her eyes immediately dropped toward the notebook.And suddenly she looked nervous.“I don't know.”That answer confused me.“You don't know?”A shaky laugh escaped her.“I started writing to her.”My chest tightened instantly.God.Elara stared down at