Chasing His Ex-wife Back

prologue.....

Vanessa pov

The cathedral was stunning, towering marble pillars, golden chandeliers casting a soft glow, and rows upon rows of high-society guests, all dressed in their finest. The scent of luxurious perfume and fresh roses filled the air, blending with the incense curling up from the golden censers.

Everything was flawless.Too perfect.

The fragrance of blooming roses and high-end perfume filled the air, blending with the faint sound of classical music. Laughter echoed among the crowd, champagne glasses clashing in joy. It was a dream, one I had been instructed to value, to desire.

Yet beneath the grandeur, beneath the polished smiles and whispered congratulations, I sensed it. The unsettling anxiety. The silent cry stuck in my throat, desperate to break free. It slithered through my veins, an icy whisper of truth I refused to acknowledge.

I held the bouquet of white roses so tightly that the fragile petals wrinkled beneath my fingers, their once perfect shape destroyed in my trembling hold. My heartbeat raced within my chest, powerful and demanding, screaming a warning I couldn't allow myself to heed.

Not at the moment. Not when everyone was watching me. Not when turning back was no longer a choice.

The priest's deep voice echoed through the vast cathedral.

"Do you, Peter Rodgers, take Vanessa Philips to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Next to me, Peter’s hand wrapped around mine, firm, possessive, unyielding. His grip sent a clear message: Don’t embarrass me.

His fingers felt warm, excessively warm, digging into my skin with a subtle type of command, as if he possessed me already. Perhaps, in his thoughts, he actually did.

"I do," he replied, his tone unwavering, smooth, like someone who had never experienced doubt.

A murmur of approval rippled through the audience. Smiling faces. Blinking cameras. The perfect love story playing out on the grandest stage.

My throat tightened.

I felt like I was at the brink of a precipice, staring into the void beneath, aware that the instant I uttered the words, I would fall.

But then...

A presence.

A shift in the air, subtle yet undeniable.

I felt it before I saw him, the weight of a gaze far too familiar, far too haunting.

Gradually, my eyes wandered past the priest, through the crowd of prominent individuals, beyond the stained glass windows that dispersed sunlight into shattered hues.

And then I saw him.

A tall figure, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. He stood at the far end of the cathedral, partially shrouded in shadow, his posture relaxed yet commanding.

My breath hitched.

The air around me seemed to thin, the noise of the crowd dulling into a hollow buzz.

He shouldn’t be here.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

A shiver ran through me, but I couldn’t look away.

His expression was unreadable, but his eyes, those dark, piercing eyes, held me captive. Then, so subtly I almost missed it, the corner of his lips curled into a smirk.

A silent message.

A warning.

A reminder.

My fingers twitched against Peter’s. My lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. My mind reeled, a chaotic mess of fragmented memories.

I knew those eyes.

I knew that smirk.

It was the same one that had once whispered promises in the dark.

The same one that had set my soul on fire.

And the same one that had disappeared the night everything fell apart.

"Vanessa?"

The priest’s voice snapped me back to reality. My gaze darted to Peter, whose dark eyes narrowed slightly. He had noticed my distraction.

His fingers tightened around mine, just a little too hard. The faintest pressure, a warning of his own.

"Do you, Vanessa Philips, take Peter Rodgers to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

The silence stretched unbearably long.

Peter’s grip turned to steel.

Every eye in the room was on me.

I couldn’t breathe.

I wasn’t in a cathedral anymore.

I was in another place, trapped, caught between a love that could ruin me and an obligation I couldn’t flee. A battle fought inside me, both sides insisting I yield. One drew me into an alluring passion, a blaze that risked devouring all that stood before it. The other constrained me with inescapable shackles, tied by duties I had never selected but had always recognized as mine to carry.

The burden of expectations bore down on my chest, stifling yet recognizable. Every choice I made, every move I took, was meticulously planned to bring me to this point. The facade I had constructed over the years was flawless, unyielding, yet now, it faltered. For the first time, doubt emerged through the gaps. This is how it was intended to be… right?

And yet…

My heart screamed no.

But my mind knew better.

I forced a smile. Lifted my chin. Took a steadying breath.

"I do," I whispered.

A surge of applause broke out, silencing the doubts that were gnawing at my throat.

Peter’s face relaxed into contentment as he placed the diamond ring on my finger. It felt chilly, unaccustomed.

Then he leaned in, capturing my lips in a firm, possessive kiss.

I kissed him back, because that’s what I was supposed to do.

But all I felt was the heat of a gaze searing into my skin.

I gulped nervously as I drew away from Peter, putting on another smile while guests rose to their feet, applauding, their expressions radiant with approval. My dad radiated happiness from the front row, his face glowing with pride. My mother wiped her eyes with a silk handkerchief, while next to her, Peter’s parents exchanged a meaningful glance.

Everything had gone according to plan.

Except for the shadow lurking in the crowd.

I turned my head, searching, scanning the guests, my heart hammering wildly in my chest.

He was gone.

Like a ghost.

Like a shadow slipping back into the past.

But deep down, I knew…

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Then, as I walked down the aisle, arm in arm with my new husband, my phone buzzed in my palm.

I glanced down.

A message.

Unknown Number: I miss you too

Can't wait to have you here my love,