The Man Who Never Looked Away novel Chapter 155

The sound of their footsteps completely faded away.

Charley turned around and gently pulled back the dark green velvet curtain.

Lavinia stood there. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her lips pressed tightly together.

She shot him a single, fiercely stubborn look before dropping her gaze back to the tips of her shoes.

Thirty-eight million. He had spent thirty-eight million to buy back the Sloan family's ancestral home, just to give it to Sigrid.

She didn't know what to do with the suffocating emotions clawing at her throat.

It was a hollow, draining exhaustion that only came when a person's heart had ached to its absolute limit, leaving nothing but an empty shell.

Charley stared at her, remaining silent for a long time.

Finally, he spoke, his voice completely even.

"Get a divorce."

Lavinia slowly raised her eyes, her eyelashes trembling.

"Let's take a walk by the river," she whispered. "I want to listen to some music."

***

The makeshift concert by the river featured a different singer tonight.

A woman in a long tank dress, looking every bit like a bohemian folk singer, cradled an acoustic guitar. Her voice was warm, yet laced with deep melancholy.

"I walked out of the spring, and in the autumn, you said we had to part. I promised not to grieve for you, but how could my heart remain unscathed?"

Ten years. She had loved the wrong man for ten entire years.

In the beginning, she hadn't expected it to lead anywhere. She genuinely believed her crush would eventually fade away like the wind.

She never imagined that, through a twisted turn of fate, she would fall so deeply into the abyss.

She finally understood where her profound sadness came from. It wasn't because she still loved him—it was because she realized what a catastrophic mistake she had made.

To the woman he truly loved, Garnett was incredible. Every ounce of cruelty he had ever shown her was simply because he didn't love her.

If only she had known sooner.

"Yeah, I do. I'll make them for you."

She unlocked the door and let him in.

Charley absolutely insisted on doing the cooking himself, so she finally caved. "I'm going up to the roof to bring in the laundry. Let me know when you're leaving."

He found some dry noodles in the pantry, grabbed tomatoes, leafy greens, and eggs from the fridge, and threw together two bowls of hot noodle soup.

When it was done, she still hadn't come downstairs. After a moment's thought, he headed up to the roof to get her.

Plain bedsheets hung from the bamboo drying poles, billowing in the night breeze like ships' sails.

He walked over quietly, pulling back a corner of the fabric. She was sitting on a small bamboo stool, her head resting on her knees, eyes closed as she listened to the wind.

The city was fast asleep.

He stood there watching her for a long time. Unable to bring himself to disturb her peace, he quietly turned and headed back downstairs.

He ate his bowl of noodles, found a spare toothbrush in the downstairs bathroom, washed up, and lay down on the sofa in his clothes.