Belinda, who had always been so overbearing and untouchable, was suddenly resorting to threats—the kind you didn’t expect, with her even talking about ending her life.
But somehow, Catherine was the one left to pick up the pieces, as if she was the reason Lance hadn’t gone back. If things got messy, she’d be the one blamed. The innocent one, somehow cast as the villain.
She tapped open her phone, entered his number, and hit call.
It rang for ages before he finally answered.
“What is it?”
Lance’s voice was low, rough, and mesmerizing, just as she remembered.
“Why haven’t you gone back to Cabinda yet?” Catherine asked. Her tone came out harsher than she meant.
Lance’s voice cooled. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” Catherine replied. “But you’re marrying Adelina in ten days. Shouldn’t you be back already?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
His answer landed with a finality that left the air heavy. He didn’t even know what response he wanted from her, just...not this.
“Work in Eldervale can’t be that important,” Catherine said. “Not so important that you’d miss your own wedding. Lance, what are you really doing?”
He went silent for a long moment. Then finally, voice soft and strained, “Catherine, are you really hoping I’ll head back...and marry Adelina?”
Her breath caught, a thick lump stuck in her throat. The late afternoon breeze outside had faded to nothing, the silence pressing in around her. Suddenly, she was back in that room the night she asked for a divorce, waiting for him to answer, trying to read his mind through the loaded stillness.
“What else would I hope for?” she replied. “Did you think I wanted you to call off the wedding? Lance, we’re divorced. It’s time for both of us to move on.”
Both of us, moving on.
With that, Lance hung up.
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