Return, My Love: Wooing the Neglected Ex-Wife

Chapter 880:

I thought I wanted you earlier, but now I’m not so sure. Want to know why?” he whispered.

Dulce blushed, noticing Michael’s hold relaxing. His reluctance wasn’t from disinterest, but rather from his drunken state rendering him incapable of acting on his desires.

Exhausted, Michael clung to the remnants of his coherence. Thinking it rude to simply fall asleep in her presence, he murmured, “Please, Dulce, I need to get to my room.”

Dulce paused, wrestling with her thoughts, then decided to assist him.

They navigated the stairs to his second-floor room. Dulce, supporting his weight, felt her energy drain as they ascended.

Once in his room, they both tumbled onto the bed. Michael quickly succumbed to sleep, while Dulce lay beside him, breathless and wide-eyed.

Time slipped by unnoticed until fatigue finally claimed her, and she, too, fell asleep.

Awakening parched at dawn, Dulce found the bed beside her empty. She was neatly tucked in, her shoes and socks removed—a silent testament to some unremembered kindness.

Dulce rose from the bed and discovered Michael in the living room on the second floor. He stood before a vast floor-to-ceiling window, shrouded in the soft glow of the moonlight.

As Dulce moved to speak, the sight of a cigarette between his fingers halted her words.

Overcome with emotion—grief, bitterness, and a swell of other dark feelings—she found herself momentarily paralyzed. It seemed Michael’s truths spilled over not just in drunken states, but also in sober moments of vulnerability.

The man who professed his desire to pursue her was genuine, as was the man who struggled with his past. Smoking, perhaps, was his way of wrestling with the complexity of their intertwined lives.

Dulce cherished the idea of brightening his world, not adding to his solitude and troubles. Without uttering another word, she turned to leave.

Michael, hearing her retreat, spun around and caught a glimpse of her disappearing figure. He quickly extinguished the cigarette and called out, “Dulce? Why didn’t you wake me?”

Forcing a smile, Dulce responded, “I was just getting some water.”

“Stay in bed. I’ll bring it to you.”

Dulce returned to the bed, and Michael followed shortly with a glass of water, his demeanor clear of any lingering drunkenness.

“Rest up. Sleep as long as you need; I’ll be next door,” he offered.noveldrama

In a rare gesture of boldness, Dulce reached out and grasped Michael’s wrist. “Do you remember your words last night? You said you wanted me when you were sober. Are you sober now?”

Michael was clear-headed but momentarily taken aback by her directness. “Dulce, you’re still so young.”

“Michael, you never hold back, do you?” Dulce grasped his hand, tracing the lines of his wrist.

His hand was large, the rough texture emblematic of a man’s work, yet holding it felt incredibly grounding and tangible.

Though Dulce had been drinking earlier, the true intoxication seemed to set in only now, in his presence.

Michael found himself profoundly drawn to her.

In this moment, Dulce transcended the image of a young woman in her early twenties. She appeared poised, formidable, both profound and alluring.

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Message from Noah: Triple chapters today dear readers. God loves you and Noah whishes you all the best (=◡=) /

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