Mr Melendez Your Wife Wants Divorce Long Ago novel Chapter 311

**Her Spark Ignites Tonight**
**By J.S. Caldwell**
**Chapter 311**

Jayceon found himself lost in a memory that seemed to surface unbidden, a moment from the past when Arabella had asked him a simple yet profound question. “Can you make me dark chocolate mousse?” she had inquired, her eyes sparkling with mischief and hope.

At that time, he had brushed her off with a wave of his hand, insisting, “Leave it to the professionals. An apprentice at a restaurant could whip up something far better than I ever could. Why don’t you just buy it?”

Little did he know, Arabella had already scrolled through his Instagram, gazing at the decadent desserts he had proudly posted. She wasn’t merely asking out of curiosity; she was testing him, probing the depths of his affection. If he could go out of his way to bake a blueberry cake for Georgina, why wouldn’t he do the same for her?

He had stood firm, denying her request without a hint of hesitation.

“No discussion,” he had said, his voice leaving no room for negotiation.

The fallout was explosive. Arabella, hurt and angry, had confronted him, leading to a fierce argument that echoed in his mind long after it had ended. In a futile attempt to make amends, he had bought her dark chocolate mousse later that day, but she had turned her back on it, refusing even a single bite.

Now, as he reflected on that moment, regret washed over him like a cold wave. Gazing into Arabella’s icy eyes, he felt as if he were crumbling from the inside.

His eyes were rimmed with red, and his disheveled appearance mirrored the turmoil within him as he rose from his seat.

“If you’re not going to eat, let’s go,” he murmured, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

They exited the restaurant, both draped in a shroud of unhappiness. This weekend was supposed to be a time for connection and warmth, yet it had devolved into an endless stretch of silence, each moment stretching painfully between them.

Standing on the sidewalk, Jayceon gazed blankly at Arabella, the reality settling in like a heavy fog.

It struck him like a lightning bolt: the bond they once shared had frayed to the point where they could no longer exist as a typical married couple.

“You should head home and get some rest. We need to be at City Hall first thing in the morning,” Arabella stated, her voice steady but devoid of warmth.

As she turned to leave, something inside Jayceon snapped. He stepped forward and enveloped her in a tight embrace, the streetlight casting their elongated shadows on the pavement. He held her close, unwilling to release her, as if she were a lifeline he couldn’t afford to lose.

He buried his face in her shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut to hide the panic swirling within him. “Walk with me a little longer,” he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

Caught off guard by his desperation, Arabella didn’t pull away. She had no choice but to acquiesce to his request.

As they strolled through the bustling downtown night bazaar, the atmosphere was alive with vibrant colors and enticing aromas. Arabella allowed Jayceon to hold her hand, and they moved forward, though he walked at a leisurely pace while she seemed eager to move faster.

She remembered a time when Jayceon’s long legs had allowed him to stride ahead, leaving her to jog to keep up, often chiding him to slow down. But now, he had adjusted his pace, patiently waiting for her.

Arabella broke the silence, her voice steady yet distant. “You should go home and rest. We still have to go to City Hall first thing in the morning.”

Their gazes locked, and Jayceon stared at her, trying to decipher the emotions swirling behind her calm exterior. After what felt like an eternity, he nodded, the weight of acceptance settling upon him.

Once they returned home, Arabella retreated into her room, locking the door behind her. She took a long, cleansing shower, changed into fresh clothes, and began packing her belongings.

During their previous separation, she had already moved much of her stuff out. Now, only the items Jayceon had gifted her remained, and she had no intention of taking any of it with her.

With a heavy heart, she placed her personal items into a suitcase, her wedding ring finding its way into the nightstand drawer—a symbol of a commitment that was about to be severed.

Tomorrow morning, once she received the Divorce Certificate from City Hall, she would not have to return to this place again.

Meanwhile, in the study, Jayceon poured himself another glass, the alcohol flowing freely as he tried to drown out the chaos in his mind. He craved intoxication, a fog to settle over his thoughts, a reprieve from the pain.

But the more he drank, the clearer his mind became, the more his anxiety intensified.

The clock on the wall ticked ominously, marking the passage of time, now reading four-thirty in the morning. Only five hours remained until he and Arabella were scheduled to go to City Hall and finalize their divorce.