My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage

Chapter 604:

At the funeral home, Gracie’s body lay in a mourning hall, surrounded by flickering candles and wreaths of flowers.

Carrie knelt in the quiet of the mourning hall, her voice soft yet weary as she addressed Daxton. “You have had a long day. You should go home and rest.”

Daxton stepped closer, concern etched on his face. “Carrie, you have been through so much today. Let me stay and help.”

She shook her head, her voice gentle but firm. “You have done enough. Go home and rest. I will let you know about the burial arrangements.”

He hesitated, his hand clenching briefly before releasing. His eyes flicked to Kristopher, a storm of unspoken words swirling behind them, but he said nothing.

Instead, he offered her a small nod, muttered a few words of advice, and walked away.

As Carrie turned back, her gaze collided with Kristopher’s.

She paused for a fraction of a second before looking right past him, her demeanor cool and detached, as if he were nothing more than a shadow in the room.noveldrama

Everyone else had left, leaving only the faint, somber glow of the funeral hall lights. The stillness felt heavy, almost eerie, yet for Carrie, the quiet brought a strange sense of solace amidst the cold.

There was a saying she had once read online: “The ghosts you fear are the loved ones someone else longs to see again.” Tonight, the words struck a chord within her, resonating deeply. The temperature in the hall was already low, designed to preserve the body. With the fire in the basin extinguished, the chill became sharper, biting into her skin.

Kneeling on the thin mat, Carrie could feel the coldness of the floor seeping through, an unrelenting ache that settled into her bones. A sudden sneeze escaped her, breaking the silence.

Kristopher, rubbing his numb legs from sitting too long, rose to his feet. He hesitated for a moment, watching her hunched form before walking over. Without a word, he removed his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

Carrie did not protest. She quietly pulled the jacket closer, its faint warmth a welcome reprieve. She refused to meet his gaze, but in that small gesture, she accepted the offering.

She could not afford to fall ill—not when she had to keep vigil for her grandmother.

The seven days of vigil passed without any disruptions. Carrie and Kristopher existed under the same roof like strangers bound by an unspoken truce. No words were exchanged, no arguments ignited.

Kristopher occasionally brought her meals, fresh clothes, or water. Carrie accepted these necessities without complaint but never uttered a single word of gratitude—not even a token thank you.

She buried her disgust, forcing herself to focus on what truly mattered: ensuring Gracie left this world in peace.

Everything else—her hatred for Lise, her looming divorce from Kristopher—could wait. Those battles belonged to a later time. But despite the temporary calm, Kristopher found no solace in it. If anything, the quiet felt like a cruel prelude to the inevitable end.

Gracie’s death had driven home a devastating truth: his relationship with Carrie might be beyond saving.

He did not dare hope for reconciliation anymore. Instead, he clung to these fleeting days like a man holding onto the last threads of a life he couldn’t repair.

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