Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

Waking up in the pitch-dark room, Zoey furrowed her brows in confusion. She was certain she hadn't turned off the light before bed. Who did?

Springing up from her bed, her gaze darted towards the single armchair beside her bed. There, amidst the dim glow from the streetlights outside, she recognized the figure seated in the chair. It was like a lightning strike in her brain. After running away for a day, she woke up to see Fitch?

Quickly, she reached for the lights, and there he was, Fitch, sitting on the armchair, though he looked a bit under the weather.

Instinctively, Zoey clutched the sheets, a wave of fear rushing from her feet to the top of her head.

Fitch remained silent, a cigarette dangling from his lips, unlit, as if he just needed something to chew on.

The cigarette was all bent out of shape from the pressure of his teeth. Seeing Zoey's shoulders shudder, he lowered his gaze, toning down his imposing demeanor.

"How about some oatmeal? It's still hot," he said, gesturing towards a small pot on the table nearby.

Only then did Zoey notice the pot, still keeping the oatmeal warm. Standing up, carrying the weariness of a long journey on his shoulders, Fitch seemed to have just arrived.

He took the bowl, stirred it with a spoon, and sat beside the bed. "Eat something now that you're awake."

couldn't quite figure him out. He didn't seem angry; rather, he

loud. But Fitch internalized his

though as a child,

Zoey opened her mouth to the oatmeal spoon-fed to her. Fitch sighed in relief after feeding her, then took a tissue to wipe her mouth. Finally, Zoey couldn't

out, she would only run

had changed. The old Zoey could forgive everything Fitch did, still in love with him. But the Zoey

others becomes unforgivable in him. Thus, despite the inner turmoil, seeing her lying there, he felt an overwhelming bitterness. She had run so far, just to avoid

were soaked through. It must have started pouring

the

his soaked jacket.

Zoey caught sight of the scarred, burn-like wounds on his back. They looked severe, possibly life

burns, severe ones. How had he

were many secrets Fitch seemed to bear. The last time he

off the dripping shirt, exposing the scars in a flash. It seemed he had almost forgotten about these marks, tossing the shirt aside nonchalantly. Zoey wanted to ask something, but then there was a knock at the door. "Mr. Haskins,

over, brought in