บททั้งหมดของ After The Divorce: Ex-Husband Regrets And Begs Me: บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

That was the difference between them. Sable appreciated him. Sable wanted him. Sable made him feel like a man and she loves him but Celestine just made him feel like a chore.And her clothes, oh my, her horrible frumpy clothes. Old sweaters and leggings and those flat shoes that made her look like a schoolteacher. She never dressed up for him. Never wore anything sexy. Never made any effort at all. He had bought her nice things. Designer dresses. Expensive shoes. Jewelry. And she never wore any of it. She just left it in the closet which was collecting dust.What was he supposed to do with a wife like that? What was he supposed to do with a woman who had no ambition, no style, no passion, nothing to offer except her sad eyes and her endless patience and her constant need to talk about feelings?He had done the right thing. Leaving her was the right thing. Sable was better. Sable was prettier and smarter and more exciting and she actually understood him. She actually cared about his wo

Inside, the house was warm and bright and smelled like bread and cinnamon and something her mother used to bake when she was little. There was a fire crackling in the great hall fireplace and fresh flowers on every table and a spread of food in the dining room that could have fed an army.But Celestine didn't want food. She wanted a shower and a bed and maybe five years of sleep.Her mother seemed to understand. Isabelle put an arm around her waist and guided her up the grand staircase, past the portraits of her ancestors she had never met, past the rooms where she used to play hide and seek with her brother, past the window seat where she used to read books and dream about the future.Her childhood room was exactly the same as she had left it. The same pale pink walls. The same white curtains that fluttered in the breeze. The same books on the same shelf, arranged in the same order. The same stuffed animal on the same pillow, a rabbit she had had since she was three years old, missin

Celestine sat in her childhood room and she couldn't sleep. She couldn't even close her eyes without seeing his face, without hearing his name echoing in her head like a bell that wouldn't stop ringing.Lysander Ashcroft.She hadn't thought about him in years, lol, that was not true. She had been seeing him occasionally on news headlines but she had locked him away in the same box where she kept her memories of home, her memories of her family, her memories of the girl she used to be before she ran off to America and fell in love with a man who didn't deserve her.But now she was home. And her father had said his name out loud and had made it impossible to ignore.Lysander Ashcroft has been asking about you. He's been asking about you since you left.She lay back on her bed and stared at the ceiling and let herself remember.*Seventeen Years Ago:*Celestine was eighteen years old and fresh out of high school when her father called her into his study.She remembered that day like it

He closed the door behind him. He didn't ask if he could join her. He just walked across the room and sat down in the chair across from her and looked at her with those gray eyes. "The library is my favorite room in this house," he said. "I always come here when we visit." Celestine didn't know what to say. She hadn't expected him to speak first. She hadn't expected him to speak at all, honestly. "It's my favorite too," she said. "I used to hide here when I was little. My mother always knew where to find me." Lysander nodded. He looked around the room, at the shelves of books, the fireplace, and the painting of her great grandmother above the mantel. Then he finally looked back at her. "I know about the arrangement," he said. Celestine's stomach dropped. She had hoped he didn't know. She had hoped his parents had kept it from him, the way her parents had kept it from her until she was eighteen. But of course he knew. He was fifteen, not stupid. He had probably known his whole li

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She did both, a little. A strange strangled sound that came out of her throat."You're sweet," she said, and she reached up and patted his cheek, the same one she had slapped a week ago. "But you're going to grow old if you wait for me. Because I'm going to get married someday. To a handsome man. And I'm going to have beautiful children. And I'm not going to think about you at all. So live your life, Lysander and don't wait for me."She walked away. She didn't look back.She should have looked back. Because if she had, she would have seen him standing there among the roses, his gray eyes fixed on her retreating figure, his jaw set and his hands clenched.And she would have known that he meant every word.*Present Day:*Celestine sat up in her bed and ran her hands over her face.The memory was so vivid. The library. The slap. The roses. The way he had looked at her when he said I'll wait. She had been so sure he would forget her. So sure that