Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

Tobias' cheeks flushed a deep crimson in an instant, a clear sign he was caught off guard.

"Ye—yes, but Queena toldto zip it," he stammered.

Abner, eyebrow quirked, leaned on his cane and made a slow circuit of the scene.

The helping hands were all locals, born and bred in the village. The place was remote, tucked away so that even a trip to the

nearest town meant an afternoon's journey by bus.

Fishing was the lifeline here, with villagers drying their catches to sell as fish jerky. If they snagged something rare, they'd haul it to

town to hawk to the eateries that catered to tourists.

Abner's presence was magnetic; where he strolled, eyes followed. His stature alone was enough to pique curiosity, prompting

whispers and nudges directed at Tobias.

"Has your family always had such a handsrelative?"

"Nah, he ain't family. Queena's the one who fished him out of trouble. My dad brought him back."

As Abner stepped into the Temple family home, Queena's voice greeted him.

"You're still on the mend. Don't wander off now."

The interior was tidy, everything in its place, with a closed door at the far end—likely where the person Tobias mentioned was kept.

Abner had a simple plan: if he'd been brought to this fishing village, could his crew have been saved too? He was still clueless

about who had double-crossed him, and if it turned out to be one of his own, they'd have to answer to him.

to her chest, and he didn't want to make waves

Tobias' place gets stuffy. Just

didn't venture further inside, instead stepping back out into the open where a gaggle

about his marital status, job, and

whose last voyage was on a cargo ship that had long since docked, could only offer a polite

"I hail from Greenfield."

huh? That's a stone's throw from here," one of the grandmas

I knew it! Look at you, so dashing. My granddaughter, bless her, is as pretty

if you're not

barricaded by their enthusiasm,

engaged," he managed to

deflated like balloons. "So young, and

gaze dropped as a cough from inside

to enter, carrying a steaming bowl of what was

ceiling, his body too battered to move. Footsteps

a bowl of bitter brew in her hands and

"You're awake?"

sit up. "Drink

swallowing the

was he? How long had it been since the earthquake? Was he back home? And what

the bowl, he

home. I saved

"Thank you. And Maja?"

"Maja? Who's that?"

"My fiancée."

the mention of her, a stark contrast to the fierceness

had turned away, and

His fiancée?

already had someone he

raced through recipes of concoctions—was there one to erase his memories, to make