Dear ex-Wife please be mine again

Chapter 3

Two weeks had passed since my world had crumbled to dust. My days were now spent scrubbing floors and sweeping at dingy restaurant, the smell of grease and old food clinging to my clothes.

My boss, a perpetually sour–faced woman named Karen, took every opportunity to remind me of my fall from grace. We were only two waiters and one was on leave.

“Christiana, get over here and clean this mess!” Karen barked, pointing to a spill near the kitchen. “And hurry up! Table three is waiting for their drinks!”

The restaurant was overwhelming, with rowdy customers demanding my attention. I rushed from table to table, my hands red and raw from constant cleaning, trying to keep up with the never–ending stream of orders and complaints.

“Miss! Where’s my coffee?” a gruff man called out, waving his hand impatiently. “And bring some more napkins while you’re at

it!”

As I hurried to fulfill the customers‘ requests, the sound of the television caught my ear. The news anchor’s voice cut through the chaos, and my heart sank as I recognized the topic of discussion.

“In today’s celebrity news, billionaire Alex Davis has finalized his divorce from his wife Christiana Davis and is now officially with fashion icon Bianca.

I froze, the tray in my hands trembling. On the screen, images and videos of Alex and Bianca flashed by, the two of them looking every bit the perfect couple. They smiled for the cameras, their hands entwined, their eyes filled with a happiness that felt like a knife twisting in my heart.

The customers around me began to chatter, their voices blending into a cacophony of judgment and gossip.

“Did you hear about Alex Davis? Finally got rid of that wife of his,” one man said with a laugh. “Can’t blame him, though. She couldn’t even give him a kid.”

I heard she was pretty useless, another woman chimed in. “Bianca is a much better match for him.

about me, the woman who was serving them. Each comment was like a dagger, cutting deeper into

that ex–wife of his, a lone voice spoke up. I turned to see a middle–aged woman shaking her head. “Imagine how she must feel, seeing her husband move on so quickly. It’s

reality. “Christiana, stop dawdling and get back to work! Those tables won’t serve

to keep moving. As I continued to serve the oblivious customers, their words echoed in my mind,

gone so wrong? How could the man I had loved so deeply, sacrificed so much for, move

almost forgot. She had always

but I held myself

scrubbed the floors harder, trying to erase the hurt with every stroke of the brush. But no amount of scrubbing could cleanse the ache

weight of the

I took a deep breath and stared at my

I needed it most. Friends turned their backs, and even those I thought I could rely on had chosen sides, believing the lies Alex spread

12

10:17 PM c

Chapter å

me. She offered me food and shelter in exchange for my

I had known. Each day was a struggle to hold onto my dignity while performing menial tasks,

myself staring into the bathroom mirror, my reflection a ghost of the woman

of sleep and constant tears, stared back at me. Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit me hard, and I barely made it to the toilet before retching violently. My body trembled, and I felt weak

sterile doctor’s office, the harsh fluorescent lights making everything seem even more surreal. Dr. Patel, a kindly older man with a gentle demeanor, had just returned with the