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Too Late to Hold Her, Too Late to Love Her Novel Cover

Too Late to Hold Her, Too Late to Love Her

After losing her unborn child in a devastating car crash, a grieving mother reaches out to her husband, Hugo Alistair. Instead of comfort, she is coldly dismissed and blocked by her own eight-year-old son. To make matters worse, she discovers a social media post revealing Hugo’s lingering love for his ex, Ava Sinclair. Realizing her marriage is a sham, she decides she has had enough. Awakening a mystical system that has slept for a decade, she requests to return to her original world, initiating a three-day countdown to her permanent departure.
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Chapter 5

With several shopping bags in hand, I made my way to a restaurant I had longed to visit.

The meal was exquisite, yet a strange restlessness lingered within me as if indulgence alone wasn’t enough.

On a whim, I stepped into a renowned salon nearby. By the time I walked out, my once jet-black hair had transformed into voluminous brown waves, soft and effortlessly elegant. From a distance, I looked like a completely different woman, modern, confident, unshackled.

I had always despised my straight black hair, yet I had kept it for years because that was how Hugo liked it.

Not anymore.

For the first time in forever, I felt like myself again.

As I passed a large glass window, I caught sight of my reflection and couldn’t resist taking a picture. With a quiet smirk, I uploaded it to social media.

Caption: “It’s never too late.”

Slipping my phone into my bag, I strolled home at an unhurried pace, savoring the crisp night air.

By now, I expected everyone to be asleep.

Yet the moment I stepped inside, three pairs of eyes locked onto me.

Hugo’s gaze dragged over me, his expression darkening with each passing second. The air grew heavy, thick with unspoken discontent. His voice, cold and edged with restraint, sent a cold chill through the room.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

I pulled it out absentmindedly. Seventeen missed calls.

“Oh, it was on silent. I didn’t hear it.” My tone was calm, indifferent.

I turned to head upstairs, but before I could take another step, Hugo suddenly seized my arm.

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you dressed like this? And your hair, what kind of proper mother looks like this?”

I let out a cold laugh.

So that was all I amounted to in Hugo’s eyes. Just the mother of his child. Nothing more.

At that moment, Jasper leaped off the couch, his face scrunched up in disgust.

“Mom, you look so ugly now! Like some low-class thug! Change your hair back right away, or I’ll never let you pick me up from school again!”

I met his gaze, unbothered, my expression unreadable. Seconds stretched between us before I finally spoke.

“Do as you please.”

Jasper’s lips trembled. He hadn’t expected his usual threats to fall flat. The realization sent him into a full-blown tantrum, tears, stomping, wailing.

Ava smiled gently, pulling him into her arms.

“Jasper, don’t cry. If you keep crying, Auntie will feel heartbroken. If you want, I can pick you up from school instead.”

Jasper sniffled, touched by her kindness, and threw himself against her.

“Aunt Ava, you’re the best! I wish you were my mom.”

Then, he turned, glaring at me with resentment.

“Unlike some people, who only care about themselves and completely ignore their responsibilities as a mother. So selfish.”

Hugo’s sharp gaze softened the moment it landed on Ava. His voice, once cold and cutting, turned warm, indulgent.

“I’ve been busy with work and haven’t had time to take care of Jasper. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Ava’s cheeks flushed instantly. She lowered her gaze, feigning modesty.

“You’re too kind. If it weren’t for you taking me in, I might be homeless right now.”

A subtle warmth passed between them, an intimacy so blatant it made my stomach turn.

I watched in silence, my expression unreadable, yet a cold detachment settled deep within me.

How ridiculous. I felt like a stranger in my own home.

Could they not have waited a little longer? The wife was still here, yet they carried on as if I had already vanished.

Just a few more days, was that too much to ask?

Saying nothing, I turned and walked toward the bathroom. But the moment I stepped inside, I froze.

My towel. My toothbrush. Both were carelessly discarded behind the toilet tank like trash.

And in their place, rows of unfamiliar feminine hygiene products lined neatly on the counter.

The door swung open, slamming against the wall, and the metal hook at the top struck the back of my head.

A sharp, searing pain exploded through my skull. My vision blurred, stars bursting before my eyes.

“Audrey, could you wait a bit? Let me finish washing these clothes first.”

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