Chapter 565

Chapter 565:

But I was already lying. Because even as I hugged her again, even as I looked around the studio that once was my pride, my thoughts slipped away.

The taxi slowed in front of Ashton’s house. My stomach flipped, as though the road itself had tilted.

The lights glowed in the windows—warm, inviting, and utterly not mine anymore.

I stood on the pavement, gripping my bag until the handles dug into my palm. I had lived here, laughed here, cried here. I had kissed him in that doorway, danced with him in that living room.

Now, I was just a trespasser.

I hovered at the gate, my hand lifted, then fell. Lifted again.

What would I even say? That I had come back, hoping he would open the door and forgive me instantly? That I wanted to step into a life I had thrown away?

I was still deciding whether to run when the door opened.

“Miss Mira p>

Carmen Alvarez stood there, apron tied neatly, her lined face softening in astonishment. “Carmen,” I breathed.

She hurried down the steps and gripped my hands. “Oh, Mirabelle, you’re back. I knew you’d be back p>

Something broke in my chest.

“Come inside. Quickly,” she said, tugging me through the gate. “It’s too cold to stand here p>

I stepped into the hall, inhaling the familiar scent of polished wood. It felt like walking into a memory.

Carmen shut the door firmly and turned to me, her frown melting into a smile. “You look thinner. Have you eaten properly p>

“I’m fine,” I said, but my voice cracked.

“You are never fine when you say that,” she scolded gently. “Come. Sit. I’ll make tea p>

𝓛𝚊𝓉𝙚𝓼𝓉 с𝗁ⲁρ𝑡𝖾𝗋𝓈

She led me to the sitting room. Nothing had changed. The rug, the photographs, the books stacked by Ashton’s chair. My chest ached.

“Mr. Ashton is not home yet,” Carmen said, answering my unspoken question.

She set down the teacups, and her eyes softened. “I heard what happened, but I refuse to believe it. You and Mr. Ashton, you two are meant to be together p>

I smiled bitterly. I wished I felt as confident as she sounded.

She sat opposite me. “I kept your room the same. He never allowed me to move anything. He didn’t want me to touch it p>

My throat tightened. “Carmen p>

“He still cares,” she said, as if she could will me to believe it. “But he will never say it. You know how he is p>

Before I could answer, my phone buzzed.

I pulled it from my bag.

A news alert glared up at me.

Breaking: [Ashton Laurent Spotted with Lea Lopez. Rumors of Engagement p>

A photograph filled the screen—Ashton in a dark suit, Lea by his side, her hand brushing his sleeve as though she had every right.

The standfirst glared at me, mocking: “Ashton Laurent and Lea Lopez at Business Dinner. Romance Confirmed p>

My phone screen glittered with the photo: Ashton seated at a long table, Lea leaning close, a smile curved just so, her hand grazing the stem of her glass as if she were starring in some perfectly staged advert for power couples. The article went on to describe them as a natural match—old friends with a shared history, equals in ambition and ruthlessness.