Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 512

“No way!”

“I can’t do it!”

“Forget it!”

Mila stared at Miranda, stunned for a couple of seconds, then blurted out three rejections in a row, almost by reflex. Seriously, what kind of terrible plan was this?

As if things weren’t chaotic enough already.

She just wanted some peace of mind!

“Mila.”

Miranda wasn’t giving up. She grabbed Mila’s hand, her voice quivering with urgency. “Think about it. That maniac—he’s like a rabid dog, always chasing after you, never letting go. He even faked his own death! Who knows what he’ll try next? Can you really predict what he’s going to do?”

Mila fell silent.

Of course she couldn’t predict him. But she didn’t need to—nothing good had ever come from his schemes, not today, not in the past.

And whatever he was planning now, it was nothing she wanted any part of.

He was always like this.

Miranda saw her hesitate and pressed on, “Ask yourself, why does it always turn out this way? Because you’ve spent your life trapped in this giant game he’s constructed, always on the defensive, always the prey.”

Mila’s brow furrowed.

She said nothing, just listened.

“You know why you’re stuck?” Miranda continued. “Because you’re always running. Even if you’re not actually fleeing, you still think of yourself as prey. You’re afraid of him, always afraid of the hunter.”

Mila wanted to argue,

opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come.

She couldn’t argue.

Lysander had shaken her to her core, time and time again. He’d never raised a hand to her outside the bedroom, but mentally, he’d twisted her up until she barely recognized herself. Even now, long after it all should have been over, the fear he’d carved into her was instinct—she flinched at his shadow.

A devil lurking in the darkness.

Always there.

She truly was afraid of him.

“So, as long as you can’t root out that fear, nothing’s going to change. You’ll never be free of him.” Miranda’s words kept coming, relentless.

“Wait.”

Mila finally managed to interrupt, “This isn’t just about psychological scars or whatever. He’s actually back in my life, right now. I want him gone—completely. I’ll handle my own nightmares later. But the idea you’re suggesting? It’s the exact opposite. You’re throwing me to the wolves.”

She couldn’t accept it.

“Just hear me out,” Miranda insisted. “These scars are already hurting you, Mila. They’re forcing you to keep playing the victim, letting him attack you again and again. If this keeps up, you’ll never get what you want. It’ll only get worse.”

“Is that what you want?”

Miranda lifted her chin, locking eyes with Mila, speaking each word with deliberate clarity. “Do you really want to keep living like this? Looking over your shoulder, never knowing a moment’s peace?”

She reached out, palm up, revealing a delicate pink-and-white rose she’d brought from Mila’s bedroom. The second Mila saw the flower, she stiffened, her gaze darting away. Miranda’s eyes sharpened.