?Chapter 954:


    He stepped forward and opened the passenger side door out of habit, then paused when he realized she wasn’t following. Lydia had already veered off to the nextne and was unlocking her own car.


    Lydia slid into the driver’s seat without looking back. She didn’t need a man to drive her anywhere. She had her own car—and nothing felt better than being the one in control.


    The window slid down with a quick whirr as Lydia leaned slightly out. “What are you standing there for? Get in your car.”


    A flick of her wrist sent the sunsses over her eyes. The engine roared as she hit the gas and took off, leaving Jeffry frozen in her wake. Without saying a word, Jeffry reached for the passenger door with a darkened face, shut it with a quiet thud, and headed toward the driver’s side of his own vehicle.


    They arrived at Jeffry’s apartment not long after.


    Lydia sat behind the wheel for a beat, staring at the building. She hadn’t nned to ever return to this ce. Memories flooded in—too fast, too sharp. This had once been her home. Or so she’d convinced herself. When she thought about it now, she couldn’t help but feel like a fool. Jeffry had given her a ce to stay, but he’d kept her tucked away from the rest of his world, as if she were some secret he didn’t want anyone to see—a clear sign he had never really cared. Back then, he hadn’t even nned to tell her he was getting married. A humorless smirk tugged at Lydia’s lips. How easily he’d made a fool out of her.


    The growl of an engine snapped her out of it. Jeffry pulled up beside her and killed the ignition.


    His eyes drifted to her car, a flicker of surprise shing across his face. He hadn’t expected her to be that fast. He’d maxed out his own speed and still hadn’t managed to catch sight of her rear bumper. Trying not to show how impressed he was, he muttered, “Didn’t realize you had moves like that behind the wheel.”


    Without ncing at him, Lydia sneered, “There’s a lot you never bothered to notice.”


    That silenced Jeffry. She’d hit the mark. He’d never tried to know her—never asked, never listened. Back then, he had thought she revolved around him, that she’d never leave. And when she walked away, he hadn’t even known where to begin looking.


    Inside, the apartment felt like a time capsule. Lydia’s eyes swept the room, searching, but nothing jumped out at her. “So, where are those things I supposedly forgot?” she asked, not even trying to hide her skepticism.


    Jeffry pointed down the hall. In the bathroom, the traces were faint but present. Her toothbrush, a towel, a few skincare bottles lined up by the sink—just sitting there, untouched.


    In the bedroom, her old mug still sat where she’d left it, right beside the paperback she never finished. Not a single thing had moved. Yet, standing in the middle of it all, she felt absolutely nothing. She grabbed everything without hesitation and dumped it straight into the trash can near the door.


    The bathroom was done. Next came the bedroom. She picked up the mug, her expression t, her movements quick and decisive.


    Behind her, Jeffry didn’t speak. But his eyes followed her, darkening with every move she made.


    Just as Lydia moved to toss the mug into the trash, Jeffry’s voice sliced through the silence—low, simmering with restrained fury. “You’re really gonna throw that away?”


    Lydia’s hand stilled mid-motion. She stared at the blue ceramic in her grasp. A flood of memories from just a few months earlier surged through her mind.


    It had been one of their rare outings. They’d wandered past a handmade pottery shop, and her curiosity had pulled her to a halt.


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