His Untamed Rose novel Chapter 126

She splashed cold water onto her face over and over, desperate to wash away the ache clinging to her skin. The woman staring back at her from the mirror looked pale, her delicate features drawn with exhaustion after so many sleepless nights, yet even weariness couldn’t dull the grace in her reflection.

Time slipped by, each minute heavier than the last, and Lumina felt herself sinking deeper into despair.

After a long moment of hesitation, she decided to try calling Harriet one final time.

The phone rang once, twice—then someone hung up.

[Why won’t you answer?] she typed, sending a message through WhatsApp.

A red exclamation mark popped up beside her text.

Her phone trembled in her hands, her vision bleaching at the edges until the screen blurred before her eyes.

All hope, however faint, was gone.

Casper, who’d been waiting outside for too long, began to suspect she was plotting something behind his back. Without a second thought, he barged straight into the ladies’ room.

“What’s taking you so long?”

He found Lumina standing at the sink, hands under the faucet, her face ashen and empty as a broken doll.

Relief flashed through him. At least she hadn’t run.

When she finished, he took her by the wrist and led her out.

Across the concourse, Lumina spotted Cedric standing with his back to her, framed by sunlight. He was on the phone, voice low, the device pressed to his ear.

Lumina didn’t care who he was talking to. She took the seat farthest from him, her mind hollowed out, crushed beneath the weight of too many disappointments.

She should never have trusted Harriet. She should never have trusted anyone. No one was reliable. She should have found her own way out—even if it meant going toe to toe with Casper, even if it meant getting hurt. Anything would be better than this.

Cedric stayed on the phone for a long time.

So long, in fact, that when the overhead speakers finally announced their boarding call, he was still there, unmoving, the coldness in his eyes growing deeper with every moment.

Hilton, uneasy at the sight of his employer’s stony expression, clutched four tickets in his hand and approached carefully. “Mr. Royce, they’re starting boarding. If we don’t—”

Cedric didn’t respond, his gaze distant and raw with something like pain, as though something inside him had finally fractured.

Only after a long while did he lower the phone, his arms hanging limp at his sides.

He stood utterly still, but somehow his tall frame seemed diminished, weighed down by a loneliness that radiated off him in waves.

Hilton finally realized something was very wrong. He frowned, worried. “Mr. Royce?”

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