Refusing To Divorce (Julia and Harry)

Julia had little patience for Playboy, and Asher struck her as just that type. Ever since marrying Harry, she had grown indifferent to good looks, quickly dismissing Asher as just another Harry.

To Julia, handsome men were trouble, charming but unreliable, and often deceitful.

After Julia's encounter on the balcony, she decided to avoid that spot in the future. The office lacked privacy, and she needed to be careful to not offend anyone inadvertently or expose herself to potential backstabbing.

Asher hadn't really affected her; she carried on with her usual routine of work and solitude at home. The only change was Harry's increased presence, which disturbed her usual peace.

Julia wondered when Harry had started changing. It might have been when Lucia suggested they have children, and Harry agreed immediately. This unexpected enthusiasm sparked fear in Julia, perhaps worried that Harry had developed real feelings for her. Julia hoped to eventually part ways with Harry amicably, steering clear of any messy emotional ties. Given his history with women, she found the idea of a lasting relationship with him exhausting.

Donald served as a cautionary tale. He had an affair during his marriage, and after her mother passed away, he remarried quickly and before that, he even had a secret daughter.

Julia hadn't experienced her mother's heartbreak firsthand, but she had seen enough of men's unfaithfulness to be skeptical about the existence of true, undying love.

While she believed in the concept of enduring love, Julia felt it was a rarity. Her mother hadn't found it, and she doubted she ever would.

Back at home, Harry noticed the growing distance between himself and Julia. Whenever he approached her, she greeted him with a faint smile that reminded him of the early days of their marriage, maintaining only a superficial connection.

He was baffled by Julia's sudden change. Women's emotions, he thought, were as unpredictable as the sea-calm one moment and stormy the next. In business, he was adept at reading people's thoughts, but understanding the emotional nuances of women eluded him. Julia went upstairs nonchalantly, leaving Harry alone and confused in the living room, watching her disappear. He felt like an outsider in his own home, questioning why he had even come. What puzzled him even more was his decision to turn down a meeting with Arya to b The living room felt oppressive, and Harry could sense the servants watching him cautiously, quickly returning to their tasks whenever he glanced their way.

Feeling neglected and lonely, Harry was a pitiful figure standing alone. After a while, he stood up abruptly and left with a cold expression. He chastised himself for coming back, especially when faced with Julia's cold demeanor. He had planned to offer her a position at his cProperty of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

In Harry's view, his return was meant to be a proactive step, but he couldn't bring himself to ask Julia to join his company, not wanting to appear desperate. Instead, he drove straight to a restaurant.

Asher was lounging in a large private room, a cigarette in one hand and a glass of water in the other, embodying both elegance and nonchalance. His eyes twinkled with amusement as he watched Harry walk in with a stoic face.

"Well, who has upset you?" Asher asked, his tone more teasing than sympathetic, clearly enjoying the moment more than offering any real support.

Harry shot Asher a cold look and muttered, "Shut up."

Unperturbed, Asher filled a glass with water and slid it across to Harry, his tone teasing as he probed, "So, who's under your skin today? I'm more than happy to set them straight for you. I'm really curious who's managed to ruffle your feathers this much."

Harry considered Asher's reputation for wooing women and his own wife Julia's recent coldness. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of seeking advice from Asher, but he quickly shook off the thought.

5

Noticing Harry's hesitation, Asher probed, "Could it be your darling Arya?" It was common knowledge that Arya was Harry's favorite.

The term "darling" irked Harry, reminding him of how Julia had sarcastically used it to refer to Arya. However, his feelings toward Arya were no different from those toward any other woman. "It's not Arya," Harry snapped back quickly.

"Then who else could it be? Arya's the only one on your mind, isn't she?" Asher's curiosity was intrigued.

A lightbulb went off in Asher's head. "Or could it be your wife, Julia?"

Harry gave nothing away, merely glancing at Asher.

Asher felt a chill as Harry's gaze lingered, wondering if he had hit the mark. He speculated that Julia might just be a convenient wife, someone Harry married to satisfy his family's expectations. "Let's just drink," Harry said firmly.

Asher realized he wouldn't get any more from Harry and resigned himself to the situation.

As thoughts of Julia clouded his mind, Harry felt the alcohol intensify his headache. For him, each drink was just another drop in the river.

Asher paused and set down his glass with a look of concern. "Harry, you seem heartbroken."

Harry pushed Asher's hand away, flashed a smirk, and shot back, "Me, heartbroken?"

Asher laughed heartily, convinced that good-looking, wealthy men like them were immune to heartbreak. They were the heartbreakers, not the broken.

In that moment, the alcohol seemed to lift their spirits, filling them with a carefree joy.

Later, Harry and Asher made their way to a bustling bar where the music throbbed, dancers moved gracefully, and seductive figures swayed to the rhythm in a mesmerizing display.

Men and women danced closely, each movement more intimate than the last.

The DJ cranked the music to its peak, and Harry and Asher secured the best spot in the house, right where the action was most intense.

Their presence alone seemed to draw the attention of every woman in the room.

With a grin, Asher leaned over to Harry, full of bravado. "Even if I retired from all this, the moment I step back in, it'd be chaos."

Harry stood, his hands casually resting on the railing, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. His indifferent gaze was somehow magnetic, pulling all eyes to him.