You're Just My Ex-Husband,My Lord-Chapter 67- cold and silent

Because of this incident, Dave had mocked Morrison several times, and now he was doing it again.

Morrison angrily took a big gulp of his drink and then spoke with frustration, "Why do you want me to get involved in your mess? What’s the point of dragging me into it?"

He then shot Dave a glare and added, "Are you going to use that incident to hold it over me for the rest of my life?"

Dave leisurely took another bite of steak, then sipped some red wine before responding, "I just want to remind you, anyone who walks by the river often will eventually get their shoes wet, so maybe you should tone it down a bit."

Morrison snorted in an uncaring way, "I’ve already toned it down a lot, okay? You see, I haven’t had a woman in over half a year!"

Dave looked at him with disdain. Was six months without a woman considered "toned down"? But then, when he thought about it, if he had gone that long without one, it would indeed be tough.

Then, in the next moment, he suddenly thought about himself. For a divorced man, it probably was even harder.

His mood soured instantly, and he angrily threw his fork down onto the table. In a cold voice, he said, "If she doesn’t agree to cooperate and play along, you go find her."

Morrison was confused and reluctant. "Why should I go? If you can’t handle her, that’s your problem. What does it have to do with me?"

Morrison used Dave’s earlier words to mock him.

Dave frowned and replied, "You’re different from me. She’s made up her mind not to contact me, but if you step in and ask her for help as a friend, based on her personality, she might actually help."

Morrison found this reasoning somewhat convincing, but he didn’t forget to take the opportunity to ridicule Dave. "That’s not your usual style. You’re backing down before even trying."

"You used to swear you could totally handle that little lady. What’s happened now? You’ve lost all your confidence?"

Dave’s expression darkened immediately.

In the past, with her gentle nature, he was sure he could handle her, but who knew she would turn into such a tigress later on?

Dave raised his glass and drained it in one go.

He never imagined that Laurent would one day be so heartless, decisively divorcing him and avoiding him completely.

It was only recently that he realized he never really understood her.

He had always believed that she would do anything for him, and that she couldn’t live without him. Even after their divorce, he remained certain—certain that she would eventually come back to him.

It was like how, in the past, whenever they had a fight, she would storm out of the house, but within a short time, she’d call him, sounding pitiful, asking him to come pick her up.

But this time, days had passed since the divorce, and she hadn’t reached out to him at all.

Now, Laurent was a complete stranger to him.

So, when it came to asking her to cooperate in playing the part of a married couple, he had no confidence.

Of course, he wouldn’t easily give up. But just to be safe, he decided to have Morrison prepare for the worst. Morrison leisurely sipped his drink, a sly grin spreading across his face as he looked at Dave.

"I say, you’re not publicly acknowledging the divorce because you want someone to play the role of your wife, right?"

Dave felt an unexpected twinge of guilt. To cover up his awkwardness, he quickly changed the subject.

"Why are you always analyzing my thoughts? If you have that much free time, why don’t you go find yourself a wife? That way, my mom won’t keep nagging me about it."

After Linda’s attempts to convince Morrison to settle down had failed, she turned to his mother, Tiffany, to have the message relayed through him. Every time Tiffany met with Linda, she would come back and bombard Dave with the same lecture. He was getting tired of hearing it.

Morrison, unfazed, shrugged.

"It’s easy for you to say. These women nowadays, none of them are genuine. They’re just after my money. Do you think I’d marry someone like that?"

As Dave listened to Morrison’s words, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of bitterness. He couldn’t deny that Morrison’s remark hit a sore spot. It reminded him of everything he had with Laurent, everything he had lost. Morrison’s idealization of Laurent made him feel the weight of his own emotional turmoil.

"How come I don’t have the same luck as you?" Morrison continued, a hint of envy in his tone. "Someone like Laurent, who loves you that much, not after your money or anything. If I had a woman like her who truly cared for me, I’d marry her in a heartbeat, no hesitation. I’d make sure we lived a good life together!"

Dave turned his gaze away, ignoring the comment as he took another sip of his drink. The words, "truly cares for me," gnawed at him. He recalled how Laurent used to look at him, her gaze full of intensity and passion. He remembered how, despite her lack of culinary skills, she had worked so hard to learn cooking for him.

He thought about the mornings when she would wake up early to prepare him breakfast. She had even taken the time to learn how to make his favorite coffee just the way he liked it. And how, after a long day, she would carefully iron his clothes, all of these small gestures that made him feel loved and cared for.

In the early days of their marriage, he had suggested hiring a housekeeper to help with all the little tasks, but she had refused with a bright smile, hugging him and saying, "No, I like doing all these things for you. I love the feeling of it."

He had been so moved by her sincerity that he had never insisted.

After finishing the dinner with Morrison, it was already quite late. Dave went straight home, the weight of the conversation lingering in his mind.

Dave stood in the dimly lit hallway, feeling the overwhelming emptiness of the house. It was quieter than he expected, a stark contrast to the days he had spent with his daughter. Now, with her not around, he felt a strange sense of disquiet settle in. He had told his mother he was going on a business trip, so he couldn’t visit his daughter tonight. The house felt colder, lonelier, without the warmth of her presence.

As he walked through the house, every corner seemed to amplify the absence. The wall lamp by the entrance, which had always been left on for him, no longer provided its familiar comfort. It used to signal the end of a long day, offering him a brief moment of peace as he returned home. But tonight, the house was cold and silent.

When he reached the walk-in closet, he looked at the clothes that still filled Laurent’s side of the closet—some with the tags still attached. A surge of frustration rose within him, and without thinking, he grabbed the nearby suitcase and began filling it with the clothes that irritated him. He didn’t want them there anymore.

He continued through the house, picking up other things that felt out of place: a few books on the balcony, a cushion on the couch, a water glass she used to leave on the kitchen counter, a small decorative item on the cabinet. Everything that reminded him of her seemed to take up space in his mind as well as his home. He stuffed them all into the suitcase, not caring about the order or the mess.

Once the suitcase was packed to the brim, a sense of release washed over him. It felt like a burden had been lifted, but it was a hollow kind of relief. He stood in the middle of the room for a moment, staring at the filled suitcase. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he would take it all back to her. All the things that belonged to her had no place in his life anymore.