Chapter 1319:
She was dressed simply—a pale knit top, her hair loosely tied at the nape of her neck. As she leaned forward to read a label, a strand of hair slipped free and brushed softly against her cheek. The gentle lighting softened her features, giving her a quiet, almost serene presence that drew the eye without effort.
Something deep within him stirred and refused to be still. He didn’t want to remain just a helpful neighbor. He wanted more—a life, a future, a family with her.
He couldn’t accept missing his chance. Not like this.
With a quiet decision settling in his chest, he reached out and took a bottle of red wine from the shelf.
с𝘩i𝘯еѕ𝘦 n𝘰𝗏𝖾𝗅𝘀 𝘵𝘳аո𝗌l𝘢𝘵е𝘥 𝘰n 𝗴𝗮𝗹ո𝘰𝘷𝖾𝗹𝘴.со𝗆
“How about we have a drink tonight?” he said with a small smile. “We can call it a farewell toast.”
Melany glanced at the bottle, hesitated for just a second, and gave a slight nod.
Across the street, a black sedan sat quietly in the shadows, almost swallowed by the dark.
Deandre sat in the back seat, his gaze fixed through the window on the three figures moving through the brightly lit store.
Melany pushed the cart while Carlos walked beside her, the two leaning slightly toward each other as they spoke, sharing occasional quiet smiles. Evelina sat happily in the cart, waving her small hands in the air, while Carlos bent down to play with her and drew bright, ringing giggles out of her.
To anyone watching, it looked like a perfect, complete family.
Deandre’s hands tightened slowly into fists, his knuckles turning white.
He watched as Carlos lifted the bottle of red wine and offered it to her. When she nodded, a wide smile spread across his face before he set it carefully in the cart.
Red wine. Were they planning to sit together and drink tonight? And after that—what then?
A heavy pressure settled in his chest, making it difficult to breathe.
He wanted to walk straight across that street. To push that man out of her life entirely. To pull her into his arms and hold her there. To tell her that she was still his—that he was the father of her child—and that he was not going to let go again.
Yet Deandre remained completely still, choosing not to act.
He sat without moving, his eyes locked on the entrance of the supermarket as though he couldn’t look away. Rylie’s words—be patient, be gentle—echoed through his mind in an endless loop, refusing to quiet.
He leaned back slowly and closed his eyes, but his hands betrayed him, trembling faintly as suppressed emotion surged beneath the surface of his stillness.
By eight o’clock, night had fully settled in.
Inside Melany’s kitchen, she and Carlos stood close together preparing dinner while gentle light streamed through the open window, casting a soft glow that made the scene feel almost like a photograph.
Carlos moved with an easy, composed grace—calm and quietly appealing in the way he carried himself.
.
.
.