“Will you come to our wedding? I want to have your blessing.”
My answer was immediate, my tone as sharp as glass. “Of course not.”
Silence settled between us like a heavy fog. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock, each second stretching longer than the last.
Sylus let out a long sigh, lowering the invitation, his gaze clouded with regret that I could neither comprehend nor care about.
“Do you really not care about me anymore?” he asked, his voice soft, almost pleading.
I looked at him, the man who had torn apart my world, and found it all so absurd. “And if I did still care, would you call off your wedding?”
My question seemed to strike him, and for a second, he was lost for words. His mouth opened, but no reply came.
Then he moved closer, his hands reaching out to mine, holding them as if trying to anchor me to him.
“Hey, listen," he began, his voice low, almost tender. "It is okay if you don’t want to come. But, for your information, I still have not signed our divorce papers. I just… I just want you to get along with her, peacefully. We can still live together.”