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.”

chimed in. “Bianca is a much

with humiliation and pain as I listened to their cruel words. They didn’t know they were talking about

see a middle–aged woman shaking her head. “Imagine how she must feel, seeing her

shrill voice snapped me back to reality. “Christiana, stop dawdling and get back to work! Those

serve the oblivious customers, their words echoed in my mind, each one a reminder of my

my misery. How had things gone so wrong? How could the man I had loved

She had

was almost unbearable, but I held myself together, refusing to let them see

Alex and Bianca were now living. I scrubbed the floors harder, trying to erase the hurt with every stroke of the brush. But no amount of scrubbing could cleanse the ache

of the day pressing down on

at my reflection in the dirty

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

12

10:17 PM c

Chapter å

food and shelter in

my dignity while performing menial tasks, enduring Karen’s never–ending criticism, and facing the pitying or judgmental glances of those who had heard the

the bathroom mirror, my reflection a

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 and lightheaded as I sat on the cold tile floor,

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