All Chapters of Divorced: Marrying Mr Unloveable : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The city buzzed with life as Carter pulled up to Iris’s apartment in his sleek black SUV. The car glided to a stop, and he stepped out, smoothing his jacket with one hand while clutching a single red rose in the other.When Iris opened the door, her expression was a mix of annoyance and reluctance. She looked stunning in her red dress, her hair cascading down her shoulders, but her arms were crossed tightly over her chest.“For you,” Carter said smoothly, holding out the rose. “Though I have to admit, it pales in comparison to you tonight.”Iris rolled her eyes, though a faint smile threatened to betray her. “Flattery isn’t going to fix things, Carter.”He leaned against the doorframe, a playful glint in his eye. “Maybe not, but it’s a start. Shall we?”She sighed but grabbed her clutch. “Let’s just go.”The drive to the movie premiere was relatively quiet, but Carter wasn’t one to let silence win.“I know you’re still mad at me,” he said, glancing at her. “And you have every right to

Iris leaned against the window of her pristine mansion, sipping her lukewarm coffee. The vast lawn stretched out before her, perfectly manicured, just like her life seemed to be from the outside. But she felt trapped, bored, and utterly alone. She glanced at the chessboard on the coffee table. Grandma Martha wasn't there to annihilate her in yet another match because she had travelled to visit relatives.Iris sighed and turned away. What now? She couldn't even remember the last time she'd left the house for something other than an obligatory social event. Ollie, her ex-husband, had made sure she had no friends, and no one to turn to. And even though Carter-her current husband-wasn't like Ollie, she hadn't found her footing since marrying him.The walls were suffocating her. Enough. Grabbing her coat, Iris slipped on some sneakers and grabbed her keys.The small café down the road wasn't bustling, but it had just enough life to make her feel like she wasn't invisible. She ordered hot c

Grandma Martha’s arrival was as dramatic as ever. She swept into the house wearing her signature lavender coat and carrying a basket of homemade cookies, her eyes sparkling with the kind of wisdom only a life well-lived could give.“Iris, my darling!” she exclaimed, pulling her granddaughter into a warm embrace. “And who is this lovely young woman?”“This is Sasha,” Iris said, gesturing to her best friend. “She’s been such a lifesaver lately.”Sasha smiled warmly. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Martha.”“Call me Grandma,” Martha insisted, her smile polite but her eyes sharp. She studied Sasha for a long moment, her face unreadable. “You seem like a good friend to Iris.”“She is,” Iris interjected.Martha nodded slowly but didn’t say anything more. That night, as Iris and Sasha laughed over tea, Grandma Martha sat quietly in the corner, her knitting needles clicking rhythmically. But her gaze lingered on Sasha, thoughtful and assessing.The next morning, Grandma Martha called Sasha in

The estate was unusually quiet that afternoon. Sunlight spilt lazily through the sprawling oak trees, their shadows dancing on the cobblestone driveway. Grandma Martha’s Bentley glided to a stop in front of the mansion, the sharp purr of its engine cutting through the stillness. Inside, Iris stood by the kitchen island, twisting her ring nervously as her sister Charlotte sprawled on the couch, completely unbothered. “You think she’ll find out?” Iris asked, her voice low and frantic. Charlotte smirked, flipping through her phone. “Relax. It’s been weeks. If she hasn’t noticed by now, she won’t. Besides, it wasn’t even that bad.” Iris shot her a look. “Not that bad? You wrecked a car worth more than this house!” Before Charlotte could respond, the sound of heels clicking against the marble floors cut through the air. Grandma Martha appeared in the doorway, regal as ever, her eyes sharp and probing. “Good afternoon, girls,” she said, her tone pleasant but edged with suspicion.

Iris sat on the couch, the silence of the apartment wrapping around her like a heavy blanket. The soft hum of the fridge filled the space, a dull background noise to the storm raging inside her. Carter had just left, his scent lingering in the air like an invisible tether. Her body was still on fire, every nerve alive with the memory of his proximity. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms as she tried to push the thought away.“Get a grip, Iris,” she whispered to herself.But it was impossible. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him—his confident smirk, the way his lips quirked up when he was teasing her, the warmth in his eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking.“He doesn’t feel the same way,” she muttered, a mantra she repeated like a prayer. It was easier to believe that than to acknowledge the pull she felt every time they were in the same room.Her stomach growled, breaking her spiralling thoughts. Stress always did this to her—made her crave something salty,