Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

On the third night, Ian’s chest wasn’t aching as much, and he could finally get out of bed. Standing in the hallway on the seventh floor, he heard a chime of his phone—a message notifying him that the seventh floor would undergo electrical repairs and there would be a blackout for ten minutes. He paid no attention to the message, instead gazing vacantly outside. Suddenly, darkness swallowed the seventh floor. And Ian heard Maja’s voice. Having just stepped out of the bathroom, Maja began calling out for him. Ian’s mind froze for a moment, forgetting to respond right away. Through the nearby balcony window, which was faintly lit by the lights outside, he watched Maja panicking as she opened the cupboard. “Ian?” She even threw back the curtains and checked another rooms. “Ian!” “Ian!” Her voice went from initial confusion to outright panic. Ian’s cigarette trembled between his fingers. He burnt his fingertips, and only then he remembered to reply. “Maja, I’m here.” He slid the balcony door open. And Maja, still frantically searching for him, went rigid, quickly rushing over to him, and examining him from head to toe. “Are you okay? You scared the hell out of me.” It was too dark inside to see him properly, but she stubbornly checked him over anyway. Ian suddenly pulled her into a tight embrace. He was much taller than her, and with this action, he could envelop her completely in his arms. He buried his head in her neck and said nothing, just holding her close. Maja didn’t speak either, not knowing what to say. After a moment, she felt tears on her neck. “I’m sorry, Maja. I’m so sorry.” Ian choked out, his grip so tight that it was almost suffocating. Maja felt the pain from his hold, but it gave her a sense of security. At that moment, she burst into violent sobs, as if all her pent-up emotions were finally

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moment, he spoke up. “You may hit me, scold me, twist my arm, but please just don’t ignore me like you have in these past few days.” Living together in silence was unbearable for him; he’d rather be unconscious. Maja stared at the ceiling, quietly lifting a hand to rub her eyes. After a long while, she forced herself to speak coldly. “Does it still hurt?” Ian wanted to say it didn’t, but feared that would deprive him of the patient’s privileges, so he quickly clutched his chest. “It