The Spark He Showed Her, the Flame I Lost Chapter 08
Late autumn in Paris brought a biting chill off the Seine.
I pulled my trench coat tighter around myself and walked out of the UNESCO conference center with a stack of translation materials in my arms.
For the past half month, the intensity of my work had left me no time to think about the mess I had left behind in Riverton. My life had become extremely simple: work, sleep, and occasionally getting coffee at a corner café with a few new colleagues.
There was no endless waiting, and there was no suffocating suspicion.
I had never felt so light.
“Claire.”
A voice so hoarse it was almost unrecognizable rose from the bottom of the steps.
I stopped and looked down from the top of the steps.
Adrian stood in the wind, wearing only a thin shirt. His hair was disheveled, his eyes sunken, and dark stubble covered his jaw. In that wretched state, he looked nothing like the high-and-mighty, effortlessly composed Mr. Grant he had once been.
The moment he saw me, his eyes reddened.
He stumbled up the steps and reached out as if to pull me into his arms. “Claire, I finally found you.”
I calmly stepped back and avoided his touch.
His hand froze in midair, and a flash of hurt crossed his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my tone flat.
“I came to take you home.” Adrian’s voice trembled slightly as he pulled a velvet box from his pocket and opened it with shaking hands.
Inside was an extravagant pink diamond ring.
“Claire, I fired Sophie, and I shut down that sponsorship program. I promise no one will ever come between us again.” He spoke quickly, desperately trying to find even the slightest trace of softness on my face. “I was a bastard before. I ignored how you felt. We can have another child someday. Come home with me, okay? Let’s start over.”
He thought that as long as he erased that mistake and lowered his head to apologize, I would forgive him.
He still arrogantly believed that I had love left for him.
I looked at the diamond ring glittering with a harsh, almost blinding light and found it utterly ridiculous.
“Adrian, do you think all you have to do is crook your finger and I’ll come running back to you with gratitude?” I looked at him calmly. “What makes you think I would still want another woman’s trash?”
Adrian’s face went deathly pale. He stared at me in disbelief.
“Claire, I know you’re angry with me. Hit me, curse me, do whatever you want, but don’t use words like that to hurt me.” He tried to take my hand, his voice humble to the point of desperation.
“I’m not angry.” I pulled my hand back and handed him the signed divorce settlement agreement again. “I’ve already signed it. My attorney back in the States will contact you. Sign it, and this will be better for both of us.”
“I won’t sign it. I’ll die before I sign it.” Adrian knocked the agreement to the ground, obsessive madness filling his eyes. “You are my wife. Do you really think you can erase thirteen years with one sentence? I won’t let you.”
“Suit yourself.” I did not even glance at the papers on the ground. I walked around him and continued forward. “Even if you refuse to sign, after a two-year separation, the court can grant the divorce anyway.”
“Claire.” He broke down behind me and shouted, “What do I have to do for you to forgive me? If you want my life, I’ll give it to you.”
I stopped and turned back to look at the man swaying in the wind.
“Adrian, the boy who carried me to the hospital through the rain thirteen years ago is already dead.”
“The man you are now only disgusts me.”
With that, I walked into the bustling streets of Paris without looking back.