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.

I stepped into the hospital, the sharp, sterile smell hit me, making everything

Chapter 120

scanned the crowded hallway, frantically looking for them. And then I saw them…Alex and Emma, standing by the wall just outside a set of double

clutching her stuffed rabbit, her small face tear–streaked and red as shed

forward and reached out for me. The moment our eyes met, I

in two quick strides and steadying me with his hands on my shoulders. His voice was calm but firm, a steady anchor in

as a broken sob. I was breathing hard, my chest tight, feeling as if my heart might give out from the sheer panic clawing its way up inside me. “Alex, I–I can’t…he’s just a little boy,” I managed

the small of my back, his touch grounding me. “You have to

couldn’t comprehend anything beyond the thought of my son–my little boy, in a hospital bed, awaiting surgery. Ethan and

on a narrow hospital bed, 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. He was so small, so

I felt hot tears spill down my cheeks, blurring my vision. I was shaking all over, barely able to stand. Alex’s arm was around me,

his voice low and reassuring as he held me close. He wiped a tear from my cheek, his face inches from mine. “I know it’s hard,

coming. I could feel myself falling apart, losing all control. “I just…I just can’t

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

turned, barely able

for surgery. The appendix

stomach, leaving me gasping, struggling to process. Surgery. my Ethan… “Thank you, doctor,” Alex replied, giving a nod. His grip on my hand was tight, grounding, as he tried to reassure me with a squeeze. But I was barely holding it together, the panic bubbling

we know he’s okay?” I asked, my voice still shaky, my gaze locked on the doctor’s

over mine. “But he’s going to be alright, Christiana. He has the

us, clutching her stuffed rabbit tightly, her little shoulders shaking. I reached down, pulling her close, trying to comfort her as much

her tears staining my blouse. “Is…is Ethan gonna

sweetheart,” I whispered, my

+5

me, and 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 and

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 had quieted to soft, shuddering breaths, but I knew she was

contain the tension coiling through his own body. He looked composed, his jaw set and his expression calm, but I could see the flicker of worry in his eyes, the way his shoulders stiffened each time he looked

whispered, guilt clawing at my insides. “I was….at the salon, shopping…while our son was here. In pain.” The words felt bitter as they left my lips,

softly, his voice carrying a calm

guilt was unshakeable. My boy was lying in a hospital bed, and I hadn’t been

her wide, anxious eyes searching mine. “Is Ethan hurting a lot?” She looked so lost, her

uncomfortable right now, sweetheart,” I whispered, forcing myself to sound stronger than I felt. “But the doctors