You're Just My Ex-Husband,My Lord-Chapter 55- lost the ability to love?

After Dave returned to the county town, he didn’t go back to the company or seek out Morrison. Instead, he drove directly to a detached villa hidden among lush, towering trees.

The surroundings were quiet and tranquil, perfect for recuperation, and he had arranged for Clark to stay here.

After getting out of the car, he cautiously observed the surroundings of the villa. The more he thought about it, the more he felt something was off.

Normally, Clark’s return was kept a secret. Even her parents didn’t know she had come back, because Clark didn’t want them to know how miserable her current situation was.

He had also chosen this hidden location for Clark’s stay. Few people knew it was his property. Bert was on the other side of the ocean—how could he have such well-informed eyes, find this place, and even manage to photograph him?

As Dave entered the villa, soft piano music came from the sunny second-floor music room. He paused at the door, signaling for the private nurse beside him to remain silent. He stood there quietly, watching Clark in the music room.

She had long black hair that cascaded down to her waist, soft and smooth, and wore a pure white dress. She sat at the piano, a smile on her face, her delicate fingers flying across the black-and-white keys.

The music was beautiful, elegant, and enchanting.

It was Beethoven’s "Für Elise," a piece that had become their love song.

Clark’s major was piano, while his was business management. Yet, he was also quite skilled at the piano. When he was younger, his mother, Tiffany, had him learn to improve his temperament. He didn’t particularly enjoy it, but he did it to make his mother happy.

If it weren’t for Clark suddenly playing the piano today, he might have forgotten that he could still play.

Ever since he took over the chaotic Washington family business and got married, his life had revolved around work—there had been no time for the poetry and romance of the past.

He always thought it was because he was living with the wrong person, which was why his life had become so dull and monotonous. But now, everything before him—the place he liked, the person he loved, the piano music he enjoyed—was right, so why, as he watched, did his heart feel so empty?

His mood was neither joyful nor bright, and even the beating of his heart was calm—so calm that it felt as if the woman before him was no longer the one he had once passionately loved.

Had he lost the ability to love?

Was there another reason?

As he remained silent, the person at the piano suddenly moved her fingers and changed to another piece: *"Mariage d’amour"* (Wedding in the Dream).

This song was one they had once played together during the height of their love, and it was after such beautiful music that they had even talked about marriage.

However, now, as he listened to the song again, what came to his mind were the scenes from his wedding with Laurent.

Because she had been the bride chosen by his father, their wedding had been grand.

Five years had passed, and he no longer remembered many details. The only thing he vividly recalled was the moment he lifted her white veil, and the radiant, shy smile she gave him.

Her smile was like a blooming flower, Laurent as gentle as water.

He still remembered it clearly to this day.

The most vivid memory, however, was that agonizing wedding night.

She had been pregnant at the time, still in the first three months of a risky pregnancy, so they couldn’t do anything. Yet, she kept teasing him like a kitten, snuggling into his arms after taking a bath and removing her makeup.

At first, he had coldly rejected her attempts to get close, but she shamelessly kept pressing on. She was pregnant, so he couldn’t push her too hard, and in the end, she succeeded. She slipped into his arms, her body pressed against his, making him suffer in silence.

He knew she was doing it on purpose.

She knew exactly what she couldn’t do, but she deliberately teased him anyway.

At that time, she had so many little mischievous thoughts, always coming up with ways to bother him just to get his attention.

"Today, it’s raining, and I’m out shopping without an umbrella. Could you come pick me up after work?"

"Tomorrow, I forgot my house keys while I was out buying groceries. Can I come to your office to get them?"

"The day after tomorrow, I’m feeling unwell. Can you carry me to the bath?"

These little things, trivial and annoying, made him want to lose his temper, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

If he gave in to her, he felt resentful because it made him feel like he was pampering her.

If he didn’t give in to her, her expression and tone became pitiful, making it feel like he was mistreating her.

In the end, when he alternated between giving in and not giving in, it brought him a sense of balance.

However, somewhere along the way, it seemed that around a year ago, she stopped playing those little tricks on him. Everything just flowed naturally, as if she had stopped caring.

When he came home late, she no longer called to urge him. When she cooked, she didn’t intentionally make his favorite dishes. Her teasing, her mischievousness, her quirky behavior—all of it was gone. At first, he thought he was relieved, no longer being bothered by her all the time.

Now, he realized that her not using those little tricks on him, no longer bothering him, meant she no longer cared.

As he was lost in thought, reminiscing about his past with Laurent, the beautiful piano music ended, and Clark, who had been sitting at the piano, got up and walked toward him. Her expression and tone were somewhat surprised:

"Dave?"

"What brings you here today?"

Clark was surprised by his sudden visit, because in the past, it was always her who called him, saying she wasn’t feeling well, and he would come over.

Dave snapped out of it, feeling a bit frustrated with himself. How could he suddenly start reminiscing about the past with Laurent, and remember it so clearly?

Regaining his focus, his gaze fell on Clark’s pale wrist. On her left wrist was a grotesque scar, which she had said was the mark left from when she had been tortured by Bert to the point of despair, feeling like ending her life.

Noticing that he was staring intently at the scar on her wrist, Clark panicked and quickly moved her hand behind her back.

"Don’t look! Don’t look!" she exclaimed.

Her caregiver, seeing her become agitated, quickly rushed over to support her.

"Clark, please calm down," the caregiver said.

Dave furrowed his brows and looked at the caregiver with a sharp, piercing gaze.

"What’s going on?"

"Didn’t your attending physician say that her mental state has been improving gradually? Why is she so sensitive about this wound now?"

The scar on Clark’s wrist had been something she had tearfully shared with him when she first returned, telling him how Bert had tormented her.

When she first came back, she had the courage to talk about the scar. Now, she couldn’t even bear for someone to glance at it?

The caregiver appeared to be in a difficult position.

"Mr. Washington, I’m not sure what’s going on..."

Dave felt inexplicably irritated and waved his hand toward the caregiver.

"Leave us for now."

Once the caregiver had left, Dave turned his attention to Clark, who had been settled into a chair by the window. Her emotions had slowly calmed down, and she gave him an apologetic smile.

"I’m sorry, I got a little worked up just now."

Dave remained silent, his gaze still fixed on Clark’s face. Clark seemed a bit shy and uncomfortable, raising her hand to gently touch her face.

"What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?" she asked. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

Dave hesitated for a moment, but eventually, despite the risk of upsetting her, he asked the question that had been on his mind.

"Do you still have any contact with Bert?"