63. The Unwanted Return #3
Meanwhile he looked completely satisfied eating his boring vanilla almond.
"What happened?" he asked suspiciously, clearly noticing my expression.
"Nothing," I answered immediately.
No way I was giving him the satisfaction of knowing my "pretty looking" ice cream tasted like chemical warfare.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Dhwani."
I took another bite forcefully just to prove my point.
Worst mistake.
My soul almost left my body this time.
Yugant stared at me for two seconds before snatching the cup from my hand.
"Let me taste."
"No!" I protested immediately. "It's fine."
Too late. He already tasted it.
The silence afterward lasted exactly three seconds before he slowly looked at me.
"This tastes disgusting."
I pointed at him instantly. "See? Exactly!"
A laugh escaped him. "And still you were pretending to enjoy it?"
"Because it's my choice," I defended myself with dignity. "I needed to stay loyal to it."
He looked genuinely impressed for a second.
"That's actually the stupidest emotional attachment I've ever seen."
Then naturally, without even asking, he exchanged our ice creams and handed me his vanilla almond instead.
I blinked.
"But this is yours."
"Hm. And now it's yours because your taste buds clearly need adult supervision."
A small smile escaped me before I took a bite from his ice cream.
Okay fine.
It tasted much better.
"Don't look smug."
Too late. He already looked smug.
We shared his ice cream slowly, taking turns from the same cup while small smiles kept appearing between us without reason.
And strangely... that simple moment felt comforting in a way expensive dates never could.
After a while, I moved closer and rested my face against his chest again.
Safe.
That's what he felt like.
"Shall we go home?" he asked after some time, though his arms remained wrapped around me securely.
I looked up at him.
"Don't you want to ask anything?"
His fingers brushed slowly against my hair before he answered. "Are you ready to talk about it?"
I shook my head weakly.
"I don't think I'll ever be ready," I admitted honestly. "But we still need to talk about it. You deserve to know the truth."
He looked at me for a second before speaking calmly,
"I already know enough. And you don't need to worry anymore."
My brows frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I told her I don't need her help in Kingsley's case anymore."
I pulled back instantly.
"What?"
"I said we'll find another lawyer."
"No!" I stared at him in disbelief. "Why would you do that?"
This time he looked equally confused by my reaction.
"Because she is connected to your pain," he answered simply. "I don't think I need another reason."
My chest tightened painfully.
"You don't even know the whole past, Yugant."
"No," he admitted calmly. "But I know it puts tears in your eyes."
His thumb brushed beneath my lashes lightly.
"Isn't that reason enough for me to keep her away from us?"
I looked down immediately.
God. I genuinely didn't deserve him.
He gently held my chin and made me look at him again.
"Answer me."
I swallowed hard.
"That's not right," I whispered. "Whatever happened between me and her is personal. But she's a very good lawyer, Yugant. She can help you get out of this mess."
"Doesn't matter." The firmness in his voice made my chest ache again. "If she is the reason behind your pain, your fear, your tears, then I don't want her anywhere near you."
A pause.
"And we're not arguing about this again. Understood?"
I stared at him silently.
Because suddenly guilt started suffocating me all over again.
The hearing was already this week. Kingsley was dangerous and whatever existed between me and my mother... I couldn't let Yugant suffer professionally because of it.
I couldn't become the reason for his downfall too.
Not when somewhere inside me, I already believed this entire disaster started because I chose to marry him.
"Shall we go home now?" he asked again, this time more gently.
I nodded slowly. "Yeah."
He lifted me off the bonnet before walking toward the passenger side. I opened the door and he helped me settle inside.
The drive back to the mansion stayed mostly silent.
Streetlights passed across his face one after another while his hand rested over the steering wheel calmly.
We didn't speak much. But strangely... I wanted him to ask questions. Wanted him to demand answers.
I wanted him to force me into speaking somehow because maybe then confessing everything would've become easier.
Maybe I would've finally admitted that she wasn't a bad lawyer or a bad person.
She just... failed as a mother.
And sometimes, wounds given by failed love hurt deeper than wounds given by hatred.
I rested my head against the window glass and closed my eyes briefly.
Despite the fear, anger, abandonment, loneliness... one truth still hurts me the most. When she looked at me tonight, her eyes didn't look fake.
They looked like a mother who lost her child years ago and suddenly found her breathing again.