Peter's words were like needles piercing York's heart, the pain so sharp he could barely stand. Without a word, he grabbed his jacket and stumbled out of the room.
He had wronged Claudia. But the thought of letting her go was unbearable.
York didn't know how he made it home. When he opened the front door, he saw the living room lights were on.
His heart tightened. He tossed his jacket aside and walked into the living room.
In a daze, he saw Claudia in cartoon pajamas, throwing down a pillow and running toward him.
"Honey," York whispered, opening his arms to embrace her. But his arms closed around empty air. There was nothing there.
He slowly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot. The vision of Claudia was gone.
York instinctively clutched the shirt over his heart and staggered onto the sofa. Staring blankly at the ceiling, he pulled out the crystal pendant Claudia had left him, gripping it tightly in his palm.
A sharp pain seized his chest, accompanied by a burning sensation in his stomach, forcing him to curl into a ball.
He fumbled for his phone and repeatedly tapped on Claudia's number before finally mustering the courage to call.
The phone rang for about fifteen seconds before she answered. York forced himself to sit up, fighting through the pain.
She was willing to answer his call this late. He knew it. She couldn't be that cruel to him.
He held back his agony. "Claudia, my stomach hurts."
A cold, detached voice came from the other end. "York, if you're really not well, call an ambulance."
After a brief pause, she continued, "And let me remind you one last time, York, we're divorced. The only reason I haven't blocked your number is out of respect for your mother and sister. I'm trying to maintain some decency for everyone's sake."
"If you call me again without a valid reason, don't blame me for blocking you."


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