His brows furrowed as he leaned closer, reading more carefully now.
‘If the first method fails… we strongly recommend holding your wife’s hand and engaging in excessive romantic activities until we deliver your replacement glasses within twenty-four hours.’
Silence.
For a full second, Elias just stared at the screen.
Then—
“What the fuck?”
His voice snapped through the room as he jerked upright.
He slammed the broken glasses down onto the table and pushed himself to his feet, pacing once with sharp, agitated steps.
“What wife?” he muttered harshly. “She ran away the second she got the chance.”
His gaze drifted—and landed on his and Amara’s wedding photo on the side table.
In the picture, Amara stood beside him on the wedding stage, holding onto his arm gently, both of them smiling in a way that felt like it belonged to another lifetime.
His expression shifted—just slightly. The anger didn’t vanish, but it dulled for a fraction of a second.
He looked away.
A slow breath left him as he turned and walked toward the side table.
Opening a drawer, he pulled out a box of contact lenses. His movements were controlled again, but less steady now. He set the broken glasses aside and tore open the solution bottle.
That was when the front door clicked open.
Elias froze mid-motion.
His head snapped toward the entrance as he watched Amara step inside before walking straight toward him in the living room.
Her eyes landed on the broken glasses on the table… then on the contact lenses in his hand.
“What’s the use of these?” she asked lightly, glancing at the broken glasses in his hand. “You can’t see anything properly with or without them, Mr. Creed.”
Elias’s expression darkened immediately.
He turned his face away with a sharp scoff, irritation flashing across his features as he tossed the broken glasses onto the table harder than necessary. The frame hit the wood with a loud clack.
“Where were you?” he demanded, pushing to his feet and striding toward her. His gaze locked onto her face, sharp and accusing. “After the funeral, where did you disappear to?”
Amara walked past him like she hadn’t heard the tension in his voice at all. Calmly, she slipped off her coat and draped it over the couch.
“Why?” she asked lightly. “Did you forget we’re divorcing?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder, completely unbothered.
“I didn’t realize I still had to submit daily reports about my whereabouts to you.”
Then after a small pause, she added lazily—
“Besides, I was thinking about finding a new man to live with.”
Elias went still.
