Dear ex-Wife please be mine again

Chapter 127

Christiana’s POV. Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

It had been two days since the conversation that had shattered me all over again. Two days of carefully crafted distance, of polite, controlled silences, and of excuses I had to find to keep away from him. Alex had been so close, practically at my side, offering his apologies and regret, pouring out his heart in ways I’d never thought I’d hear from him. But each word had pulled at something deep inside me, something I wasn’t ready to look at yet. So I kept busy, distracted…telling myself that the little excuses were harmless, just temporary, until I could untangle the emotions twisting inside me.

The kids were my saving grace, keeping my focus on them and the comfort they brought. Ethan’s laugh was brighter, his recovery swift. Emma was glued to his side, the two of them filled with games, mischief, and joy, filling the room with that simple, innocent love that always found a way to soften the ache. But when Alex entered the room, that ache returned. Just the sight of him, the quiet way he watched me, the silent apology in his eyes….it was enough to make me want to run. So I did. Over and over again.

I told myself it was just for a little while. A bit of distance to let the anger and pain cool. To give myself room to breathe, to remember how to feel whole on my own again.

On the third morning, I slipped on my running shoes, looping the laces a little too tight, as if the tension would help me hold myself together. Alex was up, seated by the window in our suite, a cup of coffee in hand. He was watching the sunrise, but as soon as I came into the room, his gaze shifted to me, that steady, penetrating look that left me feeling bare. I froze for a moment, my hand halfway to the door handle, heart pounding.

“Christiana…” he murmured, his voice soft, barely above a whisper.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to turn around, not to meet those eyes that I knew would be filled with sorrow and regret. “I’m going for a jog,” I said quickly, letting the words fall between us like a shield.

His silence weighed heavy, but he didn’t protest. “Be safe,” he finally replied, the softness in his voice wrapping around me even as I pushed through the door and closed it behind me.

As I jogged along the path beside the hotel, I replayed our last conversation over and over again, his apologies, the way his words had cracked, as though he was on the edge of breaking. And a part of me wished I could forgive him, that I could somehow erase the years of hurt and betrayal with a simple, “I forgive you.” But it wasn’t that simple. My heart wouldn’t let me forget what it had taken to survive his absence, the sleepless nights, the humiliation, the struggle to provide for the children he’d never even known about.

By the time I returned to the room, Alex was gone, and I found a strange sense of relief mixed with disappointment. He was trying to respect my space, I could see that. But each time I saw his face, the memories resurfaced, fresh and sharp. All because he reminded me through an apology, which he should’ve just kept in his chest instead of letting it out, because we were happy, in love, at least. But I wasn’t one to easily forget things, mostly when reminded.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner became a quiet routine of evasion. At breakfast, I’d be out jogging or walking, any excuse to keep my distance. Lunch was spent with the children, or sometimes Alex would take them out on his own. Dinner was our only moment as a family, where we sat together, a fragile peace hovering over us like glass ready to shatter.

Tonight was no different. The four of us were seated around the table in the suite, Emma chattering excitedly about her latest story, waving her little fork as she spoke. Ethan, still recovering but full of energy, chimed in with his own additions, and I smiled, indulging in their innocent laughter.

Then I felt his gaze on me.

Alex was watching, the faintest hint of sadness flickering in his eyes as he looked at me. Our eyes met, just for a second, and I saw the silent apology there, the plea, the yearning. It was as if he was reaching out, trying to close the gap, but unsure if I’d let him. And maybe I was unsure, too.

The air between us grew thick, heavy with unsaid words. My chest tightened, and I tore my gaze away, focusing on Emma as she described her imaginary adventure. But the image of Alex’s eyes stayedin my mind, that look of desperate hope. It tugged at something deep inside me, a part of me that wanted to reach back, to let him in.

As the meal ended, a hotel staff member came to clear the dishes, and I found myself grateful, needing the small break from the tense atmosphere that had settled over us. But just as I turned toward the sitting area, Alex spoke, his voice quiet, almost

hesitant.

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3:19 PM

“Christiana,” he said, and the sound of my name from his lips was enough to make me pause, my heart fluttering in that old, familiar way. I turned, meeting his gaze, and the expression on his face was so raw, so full of remorse, that I felt my defenses

start to waver.

“I just… I want you to know that I’m here,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I know I can’t change what happened, but… if there’s anything I can do, anything at all… I’ll do it.”

My breath caught, and for a moment, I didn’t trust myself to speak. The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at me as if I was the only thing that mattered…it shook me to my core. But the pain was still there, a quiet reminder of the years I’d spent alone, the years he’d spent with her.

“Thank you,” I said softly, my voice a bit low, and I moved to the window, letting the quiet view outside calm my racing heart, trying to create some distance between us even though I could feel him behind me.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t push. He simply stood there, close enough that I could feel the weight of his regret, the silent plea in his stance. And for the first time, I let myself hope….hope that maybe, just maybe, the distance between us could one day be bridged. But for now, I needed time. And he seemed to understand that, even as he watched me, waiting patiently, his silent apology staying in the air between us.

We were sitting on the large bed in the hotel suite, the kids nestled on either side of me, their little legs swinging off the edge. Ethan had his favorite stuffed animal, a well–worn lion, hugged tightly in his lap, while Emma fiddled with my fingers, twisting them as if the answers to her thoughts were hidden in my hands.

It was a quiet moment, with just the soft hum of the city filtering in from the windows. Alex was out on a quick errand, giving me a moment alone with the kids. And though I’d been trying my best to hide it, they’d clearly noticed the tension. Little sponges, these two were. More observant than anyone gave them credit for.

Emma glanced up at me with those wide, thoughtful eyes of hers, tilting her head in that knowing way. “Mommy… are you mad at Daddy?”

The question was so innocent, yet it hit me like a punch to the gut. I tried to keep my expression soft, my voice light. “No, sweetheart. I’m not mad.”

Ethan didn’t seem convinced. He leaned forward, fixing me with a serious stare, his small brows furrowed as if he were trying to read me like one of his picture books. “But you don’t smile at him like you smile at us. And… and Daddy looks sad sometimes.” He hugged his stuffed lion a little closer, eyes flicking to his sister for reassurance before looking back at me. “Is he sad because of us?”

“Oh, no, baby,” I said, my voice softer, wrapping my arms around them both. “It’s not because of you.”

Emma’s little face scrunched up thoughtfully as she looked out the window, then back at me, her tiny finger tracing shapes on my arm. “Daddy keeps looking at you funny, like when he thinks you don’t see. And then he sighs… like this.” She exaggerated a long, dramatic sigh, making Ethan giggle, but her expression quickly grew serious again.

My heart clenched. How could I explain the complicated mess of feelings between Alex and me to these two without hurting them? They were so young, but already so keen, picking up on every little unspoken thing.

“Mommy,” Ethan’s soft voice pulled me from my thoughts, his eyes now wide with worry. “Is Daddy sad because he thinks you don’t love him anymore?”

I felt my heart tighten at the question, and I swallowed hard, glancing away as if the view outside would give me the right words. But there was no simple answer here. I loved Alex, yes… but loving someone didn’t mean forgetting the hurt they

caused.

Yet hearing that question from Ethan, seeing his worried little face, I felt a stab of guilt. I hadn’t been the only one affected by this. Alex, too, had been carrying his own weight of regret and shame. And he’d been trying, in his own way, to make things right.

“No, honey,” I said finally, brushing a lock of hair away from Ethan’s face. “Daddy’s not sad because of you or because he thinks I don’t love him.” I paused, feeling the heaviness of my words. “Sometimes… grown–ups feel sad because they remember things they wish they could change. Things they wish they’d done differently.”

Emma’s eyes shone with a new understanding, her little hand squeezing mine. “So… Daddy’s sad because he feels sorry?”

3:20 PM

I nodded, my heart aching as I said, “Yes, sweetheart. Daddy is… he’s really sorry for a lot of things. And he loves you both so much.” My throat tightened, and I forced a smile for them, though my heart felt heavier with every word. “And I love him too. We’re just… trying to be better for each other.”

Ethan’s small hand pressed against my cheek, his little thumb wiping away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen. “Mommy, it’s okay if you’re sad too,” he whispered, his voice so earnest it broke something in me. “We love you, and Daddy does too. So, maybe you don’t have to be sad forever?”

I held both of them tightly, pulling them close, my mind racing. How was it that, at five years old, they could be so wise, so forgiving? Here I was, struggling with my hurt, my anger, feeling like I was protecting myself, but maybe… maybe I was just building walls.

Emma tilted her head back to look up at me, her little face earnest and full of hope. “Maybe if you let Daddy hug you like he used to, you’d feel happier, Mommy. And then Daddy wouldn’t be so sad.”

Their words hit me deeply, and I realized how much they wanted to see us happy…how, in their simple, pure way, they just wanted their family whole.

I sighed, hugging them tighter. “You’re both so smart, you know that?” I whispered, kissing their foreheads, feeling the love swell in my chest. They giggled, snuggling closer, content to be here, wrapped in my arms, blissfully unaware of the years of pain and the scars it left behind.

But something in what they said stayed with me, echoing in my mind. They were right. I had every right to my hurt, but maybe I’d been holding onto it so tightly that I hadn’t given Alex a chance to truly show me he’d changed. He was carrying his guilt, his regret…always pleading with those silent looks, those quiet gestures that said more than words could. He wanted forgiveness. And part of me wanted to give it.

“Alright,” I said softly, stroking their hair. “Maybe… maybe I’ll try.”

Emma grinned, her eyes lighting up as she pressed a sweet kiss to my cheek. “Good! ‘Cause then we can all be happy together.”

Ethan gave a small nod of approval, looking up at me with a serious expression that somehow softened my heart even further. “Yeah, Mommy. Family means we’re all together, happy”

I let out a shaky breath, a faint smile tugging at my lips as I kissed them both again, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort I hadn’t felt in a long time. It was as if, in their simple words, they’d given me the permission I needed to let go, to let myself be happy a

gain, and to let Alex back into my heart fully.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay, I’ll try.”