All Chapters of Chasing His Runaway Wife: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Later that night, Carlo finally arrived home, just as he usually did. True to our routine, I was already waiting for him in the dining area. The food was still warm, the lights were soft, and the house was quiet all set to welcome him. When he walked through the door, he greeted me with a smile, kissed my forehead, and spoke to me in that sweet, affectionate tone that used to make my heart race. He was being gentle, romantic, and attentive acting exactly as a fiancé should act just two days before their wedding. But beneath his gestures and kind words, I felt a hollow ache deep inside me. No matter how close he stood, the distance between us felt wider than an ocean. It was suffocating, as if the air itself was growing thin and making it hard for me to breathe.I took a sharp, shaky breath, forcing myself to steady my emotions, when suddenly I felt his hand wrap around mine. It was warm and familiar, yet it felt strangely distant.“Are you okay, love?” he asked, his voice carrying a n

Ang simula ng paglayo ay hindi marahan—ito ay tahimik, mabigat, at unti-unting pumapatay sa loob mo."Yuki, tomorrow is our marriage renewal... but I will walk away."Aking boses ay pumatak na parang basag na bubog sa gitna ng katahimikan. Napatigil siya. Her eyes widened in sudden disbelief, standard reaction ng isang taong nakuha na ang gusto pero nagmamatigas pa rin na tila walang kasalanan."Is it because I returned? But Eylul..." hindi niya matapos-tapos ang sasabihin niya."Replace me," putol ko sa kanya.My words finally broke, at kasabay niyon ay ang paglitaw ng isang banayad na ngiti sa kanyang mga labi. It wasn't a smile of gratitude; it was a victorious grin. A smile that silently shouted I won."But how about you? Where are you going?" tanong niya, subalit walang bakas ng tunay na pag-aalala sa kanyang tono. Curiosity lang ng isang nanalo sa laban.I let out a shaky, trembling sigh. "Somewhere far," I replied, my voice fracturing with every syllable."Are you sure?"Tumang

Starting that day, I took full charge of the bakeshop while Clint spent his days diving and guiding tourists through local spots. Growing up in the city, I had never truly known how to enjoy life—not the way I did now. Before long, the bakeshop had made a name for itself, celebrated for the sweet delicacies and intricate pastries I created. Even though I was pregnant, Clint would lend a hand the moment he finished assisting his guests, eventually hiring a helper so I wouldn’t overexert myself. It took me a long time to realize that a fulfilling life didn't require luxury it was found in the simple act of breathing, far away from the suffocating elite society I had left behind.Months passed, and I gave birth to a baby boy. I named him Adamus—meaning seawater, after the legendary warrior of the sea who conquered villains. Clint never left my side throughout the labor, holding the baby with a tenderness that made it seem as though Adamus were his own.One afternoon, I caught a broadcast

The morning sun shone through the thin lace curtains of our small kitchen, casting long golden lines across the wooden table where flour dust always seemed to stay. Clint sat across from me, his coffee untouched, staring down at a heavy white envelope sealed with dark red wax. It was an unmistakable mark of wealth—the kind of paper that belonged to cold, rich, and powerful people.I watched his large, rough hands—hands that had made hundreds of loaves of bread and sweet pastries—shake as he held the edge of the paper. When he heard my footsteps, his body became stiff. In a quick, clumsy move, he tried to hide the letter under a stack of recipe books."Clint," my voice came out barely above a whisper.He did not look up right away. He froze, looking down at the floor, hiding the invitation as if it were something dangerous."Ano 'yan?" I asked softly, taking a step closer to him.When he finally raised his head, I could see the battle inside his eyes. He looked like he wanted to rip th

For many long years, I allowed Janelle to humiliate me. I took her cruelty in silence, never fighting back, simply because she was my younger sister. But hurting my innocent son was a completely different story.A dark flame ignited in my chest. I took a slow, heavy step toward her, lifting my chin high. Before she could react, I swung my arm and slapped her across the face with everything I had.CRASH!The force sent her stumbling hard into a long table. Wine glasses shattered on the floor, spraying sharp shards and red liquid everywhere. Janelle tumbled onto the marble, her hand landing on the broken glass. A deep cut bloomed across her palm, but I felt no pity. I felt no mercy. I felt only pure, burning hatred.Driven by a mother’s rage, I straddled her waist, pinning her to the floor. I grabbed her designer collar and slapped her face over and over again—left and right, hard and relentless. Blood spurted from her torn lips.The wealthy crowd gasped in horror. They stumbled backwar