Boss, Your Ex-Wife is Unreachable Now! novel Chapter 25

Klein sensed something was off with his daughter. He was just about to gently pull her away to get a better look at her face when Willow beat him to it—she let go, stepped back, and looked up at him.

She really had been crying, but there was laughter mingled with her tears, and not a trace of sadness or defeat.

Relieved, Klein let out a quiet sigh and smiled. "Didn't you say on the phone you had good news to share? So why the tears?"

Willow brought the flowers she'd brought for her mother back up in front of her. A few crystal tears still clung to her lashes, sparkling like tiny diamonds in the pale winter sunlight.

She gave her father a bright, rain-washed smile. "It really is good news—for you and for Mom."

As soon as she spoke, both of them turned, almost in unison, to look at the headstone beside them.

Willow was only ten when her mother, Sylvia, passed away after a long illness.

She bent down and laid the bouquet at the base of the grave. Klein knelt next to his daughter, so he was eye-level with his wife's photograph.

Every year, father and daughter came here at this time—thirteen years now, no matter the weather.

Klein made the trip even more often, stopping by every few months. He kept the grave immaculate; not a weed or stray leaf in sight.

"Sylvia, our daughter says she has good news for us. I bet you're just as impatient to hear it as I am."

Just like always, when Klein visited alone, he started chatting with his late wife, speaking as if she were beside him, sharing the little things and the big ones, too.

No one ever answered, of course, but he was certain that, even separated by life and death, Sylvia could still hear him.

Willow had always admired the love between her parents. Even her name held special meaning—Willa, as in "willow," a gentle tribute to enduring love, a living thread woven from her mother and father's devotion.

But love wasn't for her. Not anymore.

"Mom," Willow said softly, gazing at her mother's photo, "I have good news for you and Dad. I got divorced."

That morning, the two of them lingered at the cemetery nearly two hours before they left.

When they got to the car, Willow turned to Klein, casual as anything. "Dad, let me drive today. I booked us a table at a new restaurant—I hear it's supposed to be amazing. I want you to try it with me."

Klein looked surprised, then grinned. "You just got your license—and you're already itching to get behind the wheel?"

Willow had just walked around to the driver's side when she heard him. Her hand froze on the door handle.

Oh, right. In this life, she really had only gotten her license a few weeks ago.

But inside, she was already an old pro, with nearly a decade of driving under her belt.

"Well, that's perfect then. Dad, you can ride shotgun and give me some pointers." Willow smiled, opened the door, and slid into the driver's seat.

Klein didn't think twice, climbing in beside her, ready to be the ever-watchful co-pilot as his daughter took the wheel.