Dear ex-Wife please be mine again

Chapter 120

Christiana’s POV.

The buzzing of the salon was a soft hum around me as the stylis gently applied the dye to the tips of my hair. I was sitting back, sipping a cold iced tea, in the middle of a lighthearted conversation with Grace about the latest fashion trends, when my phone vibrated on the counter beside me. I glanced at the screen, my heart skipping a beat when I saw Alex’s name.

“Hello?” I answered, pressing the phone to my ear, a smile still lingering on my lips.

“Christiana,” came Alex’s voice, calm but with an edge I knew too well, that controlled tone he used when he was holding something back.

I straightened immediately, my heartbeat quickening. “Alex? What’s wrong?” My voice was barely a whisper, but already, I could feel the panic creeping up.

There was a pause, a breath, and then he said, “It’s Ethan. He has a ruptured appendix. He’ll be in surgery in no time.”

The world stopped. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think. “What?” My voice came out strangled, barely a whisper. “A…. ruptured…?” I couldn’t even finish, my mind racing with images of Ethan, his little face pale and twisted in pain. My baby boy.

“He’s going to be okay, Christiana,” Alex’s voice tried to reassure, but it sounded far away, muffled by the roaring in my ears. “Just get here as soon as you can.”

“yes, yes, I’m coming. Right now,” I stammered, my voice shaking as I hung up, barely able to register the stylist’s confused look as I jumped out of the chair, hair dye still in place. The cape around my shoulders flapped as I ran, dropping everything, my iced tea spilling as I darted through the salon toward the exit.

“Ma’am, wait! Your things!” Grace called after me, her footsteps quick behind as she gathered my purse, my shopping bags, everything I’d left in my wake. But I couldn’t stop, couldn’t even slow down. Every thought, every instinct was focused on getting to my son.

My heart pounded wildly, my breath coming in short gasps as I burst through the door and into the street, searching for the car. My driver was standing by the door, his eyes widening as he saw me running toward him.

“To the hospital!” I cried, barely giving him a chance to process what was happening as I all but threw myself into the backseat. “Now!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied quickly, his calm professionalism kicking in as he jumped into the driver’s seat, the car roaring to life. But every second felt like a lifetime, like the clock was mocking me as we sat there, still, waiting to break free from traffic. Every inch of my skin was burning, my hands trembling as I gripped the edge of my seat, my mind racing in a thousand different directions, all of them ending with Ethan.

Grace scrambled in beside me, her face was of worry and confusion as she placed her hand on my arm, trying to steady me. “Ma’am, breathe. What’s going on?”

“It’s Ethan,” I choked out, barely able to say his name. “He’s in the hospital. Surgery… ruptured appendix.” The words were spilling out, broken, barely making sense as my voice cracked, and I saw her expression soften, a hand covering her mouth as she took it in.

“Oh, my god,” she whispered, her own eyes misting over. She squeezed my arm, trying to keep me steady, but I was already somewhere else, back in that hospital, imagining every possible horror.

All I could see was his face, his little smile, and the idea of him in pain, of him lying in a cold hospital bed while doctors worked to save him, tore me apart from the inside.

the hospital, the sharp, sterile smell hit me,

Chapter 120

hallway, frantically looking for them. And then I saw them…Alex and Emma, standing by the wall just outside

rabbit, her small face tear–streaked and

selid, firm, as he took a step forward and reached out for me. The moment our eyes met, I felt my

was calm but firm, a steady anchor in the middle of the storm raging inside me. “He’s going to be okay. You hear me? He’s going to

but the words caught in my throat, only coming out as a broken sob. I was breathing hard, my chest tight, feeling as if my heart might give out from the sheer

his voice soft yet commanding. He placed a hand on the small of my back, his touch grounding me. “You have to stay calm

my son–my little boy, in a hospital bed, awaiting surgery. Ethan and Emma had gotten sick before,

surrounded by doctors and nurses moving around him. His face was pale, his tiny body curled slightly, clutching his stomach, his forehead glistening with sweat.

hand flying to my mouth as my knees almost gave out again. “Oh, my baby.” I felt hot tears spill down my cheeks, blurring my vision. I was

he held me close. He wiped a tear from my cheek, his face inches from mine. “I know it’s hard, but he’s in good hands. They’re doing everything they can. We have to be strong for him.

though the tears kept coming. I could feel myself falling apart, losing all control.

through this,” he said, his voice filled with a confidence I desperately wanted to believe. “He’s strong, just like his

approached us, and I turned, barely able to breathe as

Mrs. Alistair” he said, his tone gentle but clinical. “We’re preparing Ethan for surgery. The appendix has ruptured,

nod. His grip on my hand was tight, grounding, as

asked, my voice still shaky, my

will take some time,” Alex said softly, guiding me to sit down as he knelt beside me, placing a steady hand over mine. “But he’s going to be alright, Christiana. He has the best doctors, the best care. And we’re here, right here, waiting for him when he comes

stuffed rabbit tightly, her little shoulders shaking. I reached down, pulling

staining my blouse. “Is…is Ethan gonna

brushing her hair with trembling fingers. “Yes, sweetheart,”

+5

I prayed with everything in me that it was true. That Ethan would be okay, that we’d get through this…together. And as I clung to Alex

hospital filled my senses, each tick of the clock digging into my nerves like tiny, endless pinpricks. I kept my arms wrapped around Emma, feeling her small, trembling body against mine as she clutched her stuffed rabbit tightly, her tear–streaked face buried in my shoulder. Her sobs

shoulder, the other clenched tightly around his phone as if he could barely contain the tension coiling through his own body. He looked composed, his jaw set and his expression calm, but I could see

I whispered, guilt clawing at my insides. “I was….at the salon, shopping…while our son was here. In

“Christiana, stop,” he said softly, his voice carrying a calm firmness. “You couldn’t have known. None

him, but the guilt was unshakeable. My boy was lying in a hospital bed, and I hadn’t been there. A tear slid down my cheek, and I wiped it away quickly, taking a shuddering

small voice brought me back, her wide, anxious eyes searching mine. “Is Ethan hurting a lot?” She looked so lost, her little face pale and

forcing myself to sound stronger than I felt. “But the doctors are going to make him all better. He’ll