Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 366 Early morning. The doorbell rang.

Mila opened the door to find Forrest standing on her porch, tall and graceful in a crisp white suit. There was an air of quiet elegance about him, and for a moment she just stared—she'd been wondering when to pay him a visit, but hadn't expected him to beat her to it.

"Are you... okay?" she managed, fingers tightening on the handle as she took in his handsface, drawn and tired around the edges.

"No," he replied, his smile carrying a trace of bitterness. "I miss you, Mimi. I waited for you all night at the Willow Lane Café, but you never came. Tell me—am I too late again?" "...No." Hearing the weariness in his voice, Mila felt a pang in her chest. She stepped aside, holding the door open wider. "Cin." "Would you like something to drink?" she asked as she led the way toward the kitchen. "Coffee, like always?" "Just milk. No sugar." Forrest followed her at a leisurely pace, adding casually, "And make it hot, please." Mila smiled, glancing back at him. "I know. No sugar, always hot. Sthings never change." He'd had the shabit for years.

"Can I use a plate?" Forrest's mood seemed to lift a little as he waved a paper bag with a small flourish. "I thought I'd cby early, figured you might not have had breakfast yet. Picked up spastries from Sweet Bite on the way." Mila's eyes lit up. "Sweet Bite? Their pastries are impossible to get! Every tI go, there's a line around the block, and half the tthey're sold out." She'd lived in Kingsford for years and always loved that little bakery-if only it weren't so wildly popular.

"It was just my luck," Forrest said with a small smile. "Today, there was no line at all." On the upstairs balcony, the small table was set with pastries, coffee, and a pot of tea. Sheer white curtains billowed in the gentle spring breeze, and the first light of dawn painted the horizon in pink and gold.

They sat across from each other.

Mila took a bite of the pastry, warm brown sugar melting on her tongue, the sweetness flooding her senses and settling somewhere deep in her chest. She closed her eyes against the morning light, savoring each bite and sipping her tea.

Forrest drank his coffee quietly, his gaze lingering on her profile, tracing the gentle curve of her cheekbones and the delicate arch of her brows, every glance filled with wordless tenderness.

The spring air was soft, peaceful. For a while, neither spoke; they simply shared the quiet comfort of morning. When breakfast was over, Mila set her teacup down and, after a moment to gather her thoughts, finally spoke. "These last few days... If Lysander's given you trouble, it's because of me, I—” "It's all right." Forrest cut her off gently. "He and I have history. Even if it weren't for you, it was only a matter of tbefore we clashed." They sat in silence for a long while.

At last, Mila looked up, her voice hesitant. "Your hand... how is it now? Does it still hurt?" The wind picked up, lifting the white curtains. She met Forrest's eyes as he smiled softly, extending his arms so his hands rested palms up in front of her.

"See for yourself. Looks like I'm healed, don't you think?" She reached out cautiously, her fingers trembling as she traced along his, testing each joint, feeling the warmth of his skin. His hands were long and elegant, the bones smooth beneath her touch-no scars, no sign of injury, though she noticed a faint flush rising on the backs of his hands, warm to the touch.

"Is that enough?" His voice was rough, almost a whisper.

Suddenly, Mila realized she'd been holding his hands for too long. She pulled away, flustered. "S-sorry. They look much better now." "I got treatment right away, went overseas for therapy. It's completely healed." Forrest hesitated, then added softly, "You know about it, don't you? But I promise it's over. You don't have to worry." Mila bit her lip. "...Did it hurt?" "A lot." He lifted his hand and gently wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, his voice impossibly gentle. "But Mimi, what hurt the most was knowing I was too weak then. I couldn't protect you." "I'm so sorry," she choked out.

"No, I'm the one who should apologize. If only I'd been stronger." "That's not true." Tears spilled over as she shook her head. "If we'd never met, you never would have gone through any of this. Your hand would've been-" He put a finger to her lips, cutting her off. His brows drew together and there was a hint of red at the corners of his eyes, but he managed a small smile. "Don't say that."

"Mimi, we met when we were just kids. My only regret is not meeting you again sooner. All those years overseas kept wondering if I hadn't left Kingsford with my parents, if I'd only told you my real name... would things have turned out differently?" "But there's no 'if', Mimi." Behind the lenses of his glasses, his eyes brimmed with sadness. "Our future is still ahead of us. It's not too late, is it?" Mila, eyes shining with fresh tears, nodded fiercely.

Yes.

They still had a long, long future ahead. No point lingering in the past.

"If that's the case, then promise me-don't avoidanymore, all right?" Forrest said suddenly.

Mila blinked. "You knew?"

"I waited all night at Willow Lane. You didn't chome, and then I m realized.. you must know everything NO by now." He smiled, a little sheepish.

"I was worried you'd get lost in your own thoughts, so I cover early." "Sorry..." she mumbled, embarrassed. "I was going to look for you, but you beatto it."

"Stop apologizing toall the time." Forrest gave a soft laugh. "You used N to call'big brother every tsomething happened-now look at you, acting all distant after these years." Mila's ears turned pink. She didn't say a word.

She'd grown up, after all; she couldn't just call him 'big brother' anymore. Not now.