Dear ex-Wife please be mine again

Chapter 127

Christiana’s POV.

It had been two days since the conversation that had shattered me all over again. Two days of carefully crafted distance, of polite, controlled silences, and of excuses I had to find to keep away from him. Alex had been so close, practically at my side, offering his apologies and regret, pouring out his heart in ways I’d never thought I’d hear from him. But each word had pulled at something deep inside me, something I wasn’t ready to look at yet. So I kept busy, distracted…telling myself that the little excuses were harmless, just temporary, until I could untangle the emotions twisting inside me.

The kids were my saving grace, keeping my focus on them and the comfort they brought. Ethan’s laugh was brighter, his recovery swift. Emma was glued to his side, the two of them filled with games, mischief, and joy, filling the room with that simple, innocent love that always found a way to soften the ache. But when Alex entered the room, that ache returned. Just the sight of him, the quiet way he watched me, the silent apology in his eyes….it was enough to make me want to run. So I did. Over and over again.

I told myself it was just for a little while. A bit of distance to let the anger and pain cool. To give myself room to breathe, to remember how to feel whole on my own again.

On the third morning, I slipped on my running shoes, looping the laces a little too tight, as if the tension would help me hold myself together. Alex was up, seated by the window in our suite, a cup of coffee in hand. He was watching the sunrise, but as soon as I came into the room, his gaze shifted to me, that steady, penetrating look that left me feeling bare. I froze for a moment, my hand halfway to the door handle, heart pounding.

“Christiana…” he murmured, his voice soft, barely above a whisper.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to turn around, not to meet those eyes that I knew would be filled with sorrow and regret. “I’m going for a jog,” I said quickly, letting the words fall between us like a shield.

His silence weighed heavy, but he didn’t protest. “Be safe,” he finally replied, the softness in his voice wrapping around me even as I pushed through the door and closed it behind me.

As I jogged along the path beside the hotel, I replayed our last conversation over and over again, his apologies, the way his words had cracked, as though he was on the edge of breaking. And a part of me wished I could forgive him, that I could somehow erase the years of hurt and betrayal with a simple, “I forgive you.” But it wasn’t that simple. My heart wouldn’t let me forget what it had taken to survive his absence, the sleepless nights, the humiliation, the struggle to provide for the children he’d never even known about.

By the time I returned to the room, Alex was gone, and I found a strange sense of relief mixed with disappointment. He was trying to respect my space, I could see that. But each time I saw his face, the memories resurfaced, fresh and sharp. All because he reminded me through an apology, which he should’ve just kept in his chest instead of letting it out, because we were happy, in love, at least. But I wasn’t one to easily forget things, mostly when reminded.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner became a quiet routine of evasion. At breakfast, I’d be out jogging or walking, any excuse to keep my distance. Lunch was spent with the children, or sometimes Alex would take them out on his own. Dinner was our only moment as a family, where we sat together, a fragile peace hovering over us like glass ready to shatter.

Tonight was no different. The four of us were seated around the table in the suite, Emma chattering excitedly about her latest story, waving her little fork as she spoke. Ethan, still recovering but full of energy, chimed in with his own additions, and I smiled, indulging in their innocent laughter.

Then I felt his gaze on me.

Alex was watching, the faintest hint of sadness flickering in his eyes as he looked at me. Our eyes met, just for a second, and I saw the silent apology there, the plea, the yearning. It was as if he was reaching out, trying to close the gap, but unsure if I’d let him. And maybe I was unsure, too.

described her imaginary adventure. But the image of Alex’s eyes stayedin my mind, that look of desperate hope.

from the

hesitant.

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3:19 PM

Chapter 127

heart fluttering in that old, familiar way. I turned, meeting his gaze, and

start to waver.

want you to know that I’m here,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I know I can’t change

the only thing that mattered…it shook

bit low, and I moved to the window, letting the quiet view outside calm my racing heart, trying to create some distance

I let myself hope….hope that maybe, just maybe, the distance between us could one day be bridged.

on the large bed in the hotel suite, the kids nestled on either side of me, their little legs swinging off the edge. Ethan had his favorite stuffed

moment, with just the soft hum of the city filtering in from the windows. Alex was out on a quick errand, giving me a moment alone with the kids. And though I’d been trying my best to hide it, they’d clearly noticed the tension. Little sponges, these two were. More observant than anyone gave

eyes of hers, tilting her head in that knowing

like a punch to the gut. I tried to

smile at him like you smile at us. And… and Daddy looks sad sometimes.” He hugged his

no, baby,” I said, my voice softer, wrapping my arms around them both. “It’s not

scrunched up thoughtfully as she looked out the window, then back at me, her tiny finger tracing shapes on my arm. “Daddy keeps looking at you funny, like when he thinks you don’t see. And then he sighs… like this.” She exaggerated a long, dramatic sigh, making Ethan giggle, but

mess of feelings between Alex and me to these two without hurting them? They were so young, but already so keen, picking up on every little unspoken

Ethan’s soft voice pulled me from my thoughts, his eyes now wide with

view outside would give me the right words. But there was no

caused.

question from Ethan, seeing his worried little face, I felt a stab of guilt. I hadn’t been the only one affected by this. Alex, too, had been carrying his own weight of regret and shame. And he’d been trying, in his own way, to make

because of you or because he thinks I don’t love him.” I paused, feeling the heaviness of my words. “Sometimes… grown–ups feel sad because they remember things they wish they could change. Things they wish

new understanding, her little hand squeezing mine.

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