Mr Melendez Your Wife Wants Divorce Long Ago novel Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When Arabella’s voice came out rough and breathless, Jayceon took it as a sign of her desire, and his kiss grew more intense, pressing deeper into her lips. He knew her body intimately, every curve and reaction, and despite her inner resistance, her defenses began to crumble under his touch.

Just as she felt herself about to surrender, a sudden flood of memories crashed into her mind—the serene beach, the luxurious yacht, the dazzling fireworks lighting up the night sky, the bouquet of roses, the unmistakable sight of her husband’s ringed hand resting on another woman’s waist, and that cruel, loving caption beneath the photo.

A wave of nausea surged through her, sharp and overwhelming. She pushed him away forcefully and bent over the edge of the bed, retching violently.

Jayceon flipped on the light, and with it, the charged atmosphere between them evaporated completely. He rose from the bed and gently rubbed her back. “Are you feeling sick?” he asked, concern flickering in his eyes.

She shrugged him off and headed straight to the bathroom, her movements stiff and distant.

She wasn’t ill—just utterly fed up with him.

Jayceon frowned as he watched her retreating figure, then went downstairs to fetch some water. He didn’t notice the dark circles beneath her swollen eyes, the hoarseness in her voice, or the fresh cut on her ankle from when she’d stumbled earlier.

When he returned a few minutes later, Arabella had already stepped out of the bathroom, preparing to climb back into bed. He handed her the glass without a word. “I’ll book a restaurant tomorrow to make up for our anniversary,” he said flatly.

There was no apology in his tone, no hint of remorse—just a statement of fact.

She ignored the water and lay back down, her voice cold and dismissive. “Don’t bother.”

So, he had remembered their anniversary after all.

But he had spent the entire day renting out a beach, setting off fireworks alongside his first love and their son.

Since their wedding, she had devoted herself to him completely, tending to his every need, never asking him to lift a finger around the house.

And yet now, he offered to bake a blueberry cake for them.

He had betrayed her, fathered a child with another woman, yet acted as if none of it mattered, expecting her to be intimate with him as if nothing had changed.

His casual mention of last night, completely devoid of guilt, shattered the last illusions Arabella had clung to.

For the first time, she saw the man she had loved for so long as a hypocrite.

The room fell into a heavy silence between them, the air thick with unspoken pain.

Just then, Jayceon’s phone screen flickered to life, breaking the stillness.

He glanced at the message, then at Arabella, who remained motionless.

Without a word, he quickly typed a reply and switched off the screen, his mind clearly elsewhere.

“Let’s get some rest,” he said abruptly.

But Arabella’s eyes wouldn’t close. Even in the darkness behind her eyelids, she saw the perfect picture of Jayceon holding his son in one arm while his beloved first love smiled beside him.

Burning with anger, she felt the desperate urge to snatch his phone and confront him—finally putting an end to the charade.

Yet reason held her back. Her mother had just undergone heart surgery and was still in the hospital. Now was not the time to tear their family apart with a divorce.

His tall, commanding presence was impossible to miss—the kind of man whose cold, noble aura drew attention wherever he went.

Their eyes met. Jayceon’s brow furrowed slightly as he approached her.

Arabella noticed the thick stack of receipts clutched in his hand but said nothing.

It was Wednesday morning, around 9 a.m.

At this hour, he should have been in a meeting with senior executives at the Melendez Building.

Instead, here he was, standing in the hospital lobby.

Arabella didn’t need to guess why.

She fought the urge to confront him, afraid she would lose control—yelling, crying, and making a scene like some desperate woman.

She worried her parents might overhear and that she would crumble before she could gather herself.

Heart aching, she stood silently, waiting for him to break the silence—or not.

Jayceon reached out to take the papers from her hand, but just then, his phone rang again.

He pulled his hand back and glanced at the screen.