Mr Melendez Your Wife Wants Divorce Long Ago novel Chapter 142

**Her Spark Ignites Tonight**
By J.S. Caldwell

**Chapter 142**

“I am the victim here, and I can confront the woman you claim to love. Yet, you are the abuser—so tell me, what exactly are you fleeing from?” Arabella’s voice trembled with a mix of fury and desperation.

“Why is it so difficult for you to simply acknowledge that you love Georgina? That you love your own son?” she pressed, her heart racing as she spoke.

“Why won’t you just admit that you coerced me back into this life as nothing more than a decoration, a mere facade for your illicit romance?”

By the time she finished speaking, Arabella found herself shouting, her voice echoing in the walls of their home.

It was infuriating to see Jayceon, a man so deeply flawed and rotten to the core, still feigning innocence in front of her. He had initiated this argument, yet somehow, it felt as if she were the only one truly engaged in the fight.

She couldn’t understand how he could remain so calm, so collected, as if nothing mattered to him. Arabella knew all too well that any attempt to argue with Jayceon was futile; it would lead nowhere good.

Yet, the thought of bottling up her feelings made her stomach churn. Even if she felt trapped in this marriage, she was determined to hold on to her true self for as long as she could.

For a brief moment, the room fell into an uneasy silence. Both of them struggled to contain their emotions, desperately trying to rein in the tempest that threatened to overflow.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Jayceon stated flatly, turning on his heel and heading toward the bathroom.

Arabella’s gaze lingered on his retreating figure, but she made no move to stop him. It was a ritual he had maintained for years—showering and changing clothes the moment he returned home, even when he was nursing injuries.

With a heavy sigh, Arabella made her way into the master bathroom. The water cascaded over her, washing away the remnants of their argument, but not the feelings that lingered in her heart. After her shower, she retrieved the first-aid kit, mentally preparing herself for what was to come.

Just then, Jayceon pushed the door open, stepping into the room shirtless, clad only in dark pajama pants that hung low on his hips.

Arabella pulled back the covers of their bed and gestured for him to sit at the edge. “Take a seat; I’ll tend to your wounds,” she instructed, her voice steady despite the chaos of emotions swirling inside her.

As Jayceon settled onto the bed, he watched her with a mixture of curiosity and concern as she meticulously prepared antiseptic cotton swabs. She maintained a calm exterior, her face an impassive mask that belied the intensity of their earlier confrontation.

Turning him gently, she began to clean the wounds on his back. “You’ve got two rather deep cuts here. Please, avoid showering for the next couple of days. We need to keep those wounds clean; you don’t want them to get infected,” she advised, her tone professional yet tinged with an undercurrent of care.

Jayceon’s hand shot out, capturing her wrist firmly. “Do you really care about me?” he asked, his voice low, almost vulnerable.

After Arabella finished tending to his wounds, Jayceon stepped out onto the balcony for a smoke, seeking solace in the quiet night air.

Arabella took a moment to tidy up the room, her heart still racing from their earlier exchange, before slipping into bed without waiting for him.

When dawn broke and she awoke the next morning, she noticed Jayceon still asleep beside her, his features softened in slumber.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed, washed up, and selected her outfit for the day. She applied her makeup with precision, styling her hair with care, all the while glancing at Jayceon, who was just beginning to stir.

As he rose, she reminded him softly, “I’ve laid out your suit. The watch and lapel pin are on the dresser. The gray tie should complement everything nicely.”

Jayceon stood behind her, captivated by the exquisite beauty of her face reflected in the mirror. He listened intently to her thoughtful reminders, but for reasons he couldn’t quite place, a heavy weight settled in his chest.

Victoria had prepared breakfast for them, but the tension between them hung thick in the air, and neither of them felt inclined to eat.

At seven in the morning, Arabella arrived at the press conference right on time, her arm linked with Jayceon’s.

As they faced the barrage of flashing cameras and probing questions from reporters, Arabella held her head high, exuding poise and grace, a smile firmly planted on her lips despite the turmoil brewing beneath the surface.