Chapter 27 up
“Nyla.”
The sound of that voice stopped her in her tracks.
Nyla had just stepped out of a luxury boutique in the city center, a shopping bag with a well-known designer logo hanging from her arm. Her face was calm, her steps light—no longer hesitant like they used to be. Beside her, Vincent walked at an easy pace, talking about tomorrow’s meeting schedule as if the world were completely under his control.
But the moment that voice reached her ears, the air around them shifted.
Nyla turned.
Clark stood a few meters away, his face rigid, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark with emotions he hadn’t managed to hide. His gaze went straight to the shopping bag in Nyla’s hand—as if that object were the cruelest proof of betrayal.
“What is this?” Clark asked coldly.
Vincent stopped walking. “Is there a problem?”
Clark didn’t even glance at Vincent. His eyes were locked on Nyla. “You buy clothes that expensive now?”
Nyla let out a slow breath. “I don’t intend to explain my life to you.”
Clark gave a short, bitter laugh. “Of course not. Because now you have a rich man who can buy you anything.”
Vincent took half a step forward, but Nyla raised her hand, stopping him.
“I can handle this,” Nyla said calmly.
Clark’s sharp gaze shifted to Vincent. “Did you buy that for her?”
Vincent didn’t deny it. “Yes.”
That single word was like a spark thrown onto gasoline.
“Are you insane?” Clark snapped. “Do you think buying branded clothes means you can buy a woman’s dignity?”
Nyla frowned. “Stop.”
But Clark had already exploded.
“Look at you now,” Clark continued harshly, scanning Nyla from head to toe. “You used to not care about expensive things at all. Now? You change the moment a man starts throwing money at you.”
Nyla held her breath.
“You’re cheap, Nyla,” Clark said mercilessly. “The moment you’re given bags and expensive clothes, you forget who you are.”
The words hit hard.
Vincent was about to speak, but Nyla spoke first.
“Cheap?” Nyla repeated softly, almost in a whisper.
Clark nodded with a sneer. “Yes. Cheap.”
Nyla let out a small laugh—not because it was funny, but because of the irony. “Do you know what ‘cheap’ really means, Clark?”
Clark didn’t answer.
“Cheap,” Nyla continued, “is when a man thinks he has the right to control his wife’s life, but refuses to take responsibility for her needs.”
Clark stiffened.
“Cheap,” Nyla went on, her voice sharper now, “is when a woman is forced to survive without money, without protection, without certainty—and then gets insulted when she finally accepts help.”
Clark clenched his fists. “I’m your husband.”
“You stopped being my husband when you let me starve in silence,” Nyla replied without flinching.
People around them began to glance over. Some slowed their steps, drawn by the tension thickening in the air.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Clark sneered. “Showing off. Making me look small.”
Nyla shook her head. “I never intended to show off anything.”
“Then why accept all of this?” Clark pointed at the shopping bag.
“Because I work,” Nyla answered firmly. “Because I deserve it.”
Clark laughed loudly. “Deserve it? You think Vincent gives you all this without an agenda?”
Vincent finally spoke, his voice calm but edged with pressure. “I bought her clothes because she’ll be attending an important meeting as my assistant. Appearance is part of professionalism.”
Clark turned sharply toward him. “Don’t pretend to be noble!”
Vincent met Clark’s stare without emotion. “I didn’t force her. Unlike the way you forced her to endure lack.”
That sentence made Clark lose control.
“Shut up!” he shouted.
Nyla stepped forward, standing directly in front of Clark. “Don’t yell at him.”
Clark stared at her, his chest rising and falling. “You’re defending him now?”
“I’m defending myself,” Nyla replied.
Clark shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve changed.”
Nyla looked straight at him. “No. I just stopped shrinking myself so your ego could feel big.”
Silence fell between them.
Clark stared at Nyla for a long moment, as if searching for the woman who used to lower her head every time he raised his voice.
But what he saw now was a woman with squared shoulders, clear eyes, and a courage that couldn’t be bought.
“You think these expensive clothes will make you happy?” Clark asked quietly, his tone almost pleading.
Nyla glanced at the bag in her hand, then looked back at him. “It’s not these clothes that make me happy.”
“Then what?” Clark asked.
“Freedom,” Nyla answered without hesitation. “And being valued.”
Clark fell silent.
“You know what’s saddest?” Nyla continued softly. “I never demanded expensive things from you. I just wanted you to see me.”
Clark closed his eyes.
Vincent stepped closer to Nyla. “We should go. We’re late for the meeting.”
Nyla nodded.
As she turned to leave, Clark reached for her arm.
The touch made Nyla stop.
“Don’t touch me,” she said coldly.
Clark let go instantly, startled.
“You won’t be happy with him,” Clark said desperately.
Nyla turned back one last time. “You’re wrong. My happiness no longer depends on anyone.”
She walked away with Vincent, leaving Clark standing alone in the middle of the crowded city center.