Love On Ice: Don’t Leave Me, My Charming Liar

Chapter 295: Ethan, his brow slightly furrowed, interjected, "Let's not drag this out any longer." To Nyla, they seemed like a united front-a flawless pairing. She found it almost absurdly amusing. Despite being her husband, Ethan seemed inclined to doubt her. At that moment, Nyla felt a deep, stinging defeat. Ethan's tone was sharp, a painful contrast to his occasional gentleness. Why did men speak with such varying tones? "Ethan, consider her condition. She's hurt," Callie softly scolded. "I'll leave you two.

Nyla, if you truly believe I was involved, I'm open to any investigation," Callie added as she made her way to the door, masking a triumphant grin. As she closed the door behind her, she caught a glimpse of Nyla's pale expression and felt an unexpected surge of happiness. The misfortune of others was oddly gratifying. Callie was certain-Nyla stood no chance against her. Not in the slightest. Nyla spent a few days recovering in the hospital before finally returning to Maple Villa. Though the doctor assured them that she was nearly fully healed, she still lacked her former energy.

Bonnie visited her a few times, and Nyla would occasionally smile, though those moments were few and far between. Her interactions with Ethan became even scarcer, almost nonexistent. Whenever he tried to engage with her, Nyla would retreat to her room. If Ethan wished to sleep beside her, she would quietly slip away to the guest room in the middle of the night. As time passed, Ethan's visits grew less frequent. Latest novels at gⱯlnσνes․cøm "Mrs. Brooks, I prepared some soup. Please have some," Hana said as she walked over to Nyla with the bowl.

The garden was alive with the vibrancy of April, yet Nyla sat wrapped in a blanket on the swing, staring off into the distance, a picture of quiet sadness. Her complexion had improved slightly, but she still appeared far from well. She turned her head slowly to acknowledge Hana, taking the bowl of soup with a faint nod. "Thank you, Hana." Hana lingered, uncertain, before letting out a long sigh. "Mrs. Brooks, I can't fathom how painful your miscarriage has been, but life must go on," she said gently.

Nyla's eyelashes fluttered as she took a sip of the soup, her voice distant and tinged with sorrow. "I know." Unable to watch her in such pain, Hana gently insisted, "Mrs. Brooks, think of the child-someone who wanted to protect you, someone who loved you. If you don't take care of yourself, how can your child find peace?" Finally, Nyla responded, her gaze drifting down to her stomach as she placed a hand on it. . . .