Dear Ex Wife, I Want You Back

~ Sophia ~

"Smile bigger, Sophia. People are taking pictures."

Damien didn't even look at me when he said it. His hand pressed against my back, guiding me through the crowd like I was a suitcase he had to deliver without dropping. I smiled the way I practiced in the bathroom mirror: show your teeth, keep your eyes bright, and hide everything you actually feel.

"Better," he muttered.

Then he was gone.

His hand was still on my dress, but his eyes were already across the giant room, locked on a bunch of men in dark suits. That was Damien. He gave you just enough attention to keep you standing, and then he pulled the rug out.

"Mrs. Laurent!" A woman with giant diamond rings grabbed my elbow. Her skin felt like ice. "Your husband told us you used to be a nurse. How sweet."

"Yes," I said. "Three years in the emergency room."

Right on cue, Damien’s hand slid off my back. He walked away in fast, long steps, shook another man’s hand, and laughed out loud. It was a loud, warm, friendly laugh. It was a laugh I had never heard him use once in our quiet house.

I stood there holding a glass of champagne I didn't want. Across the room, near the dessert table, Damien’s mother, Vivian, stared at me. Her chin was tilted up, watching me like a hawk waits for a field mouse to make a mistake.

"You two looked almost like a real couple just now," a voice whispered in my ear.

It was Adrian.

I didn't turn around. "I didn't see you come in."

"I like to sneak up on people." Adrian stepped right into my personal space and plucked the glass out of my fingers. He set it on a passing waiter’s tray. "You weren't going to drink it anyway. You never do."

"I need to go find your brother."

"My brother is busy playing big boss." Adrian smiled, but his eyes stayed sharp and dangerous. "Dance with me instead. Nobody in this room can tell us apart anyway."

"I can tell," I said, stepping behind a rolling food cart to put metal between us. "Excuse me, Adrian."

"You always run away right when things get fun, Sophia."

I didn't answer. I hurried straight toward the big glass doors that led outside. The night air hit my bare arms like a slap, but it felt clean. Down below, the city was just a bunch of yellow lights. I gripped the cold stone railing and took three deep breaths until my heart stopped hammering in my ears.

The door clicked open behind me.

"There you are," Damien said. His tie was pulled loose just a little bit, perfectly messy on purpose. "You ran off."

"I needed some fresh air."

"The guests noticed," he said, staring at the party through the glass instead of looking at my face. "It looks bad when the host's wife simply disappears."

"Adrian cornered me, Damien. He took my drink. He asked me to dance with him."

That made him stop. For a tiny second, his face softened, and I thought—just maybe—he was going to care.

"Adrian is just messing around," Damien sighed, looking back inside. "He flirts with the coat-check girl, too. Don't make it a big deal."

"I am your wife. He shouldn't flirt with me."

"You're seeing ghosts, Sophia." He reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. It was a gentle touch, but it felt totally empty. Like someone checking a box on a list. "Come inside. Dinner is starting."

He held the door open. I walked back into the bright, loud room and headed toward the main head table.

That was when my feet stopped moving.

A woman was sitting in my chair.

She had shiny, dark hair and wore a dress made of midnight-blue silk. Celeste Armand. Damien’s first love. The rich girl his mother had always wanted him to marry instead of me—the foster kid who used to work night shifts cleaning up broken bones. Celeste had moved to France years ago, but now she was back. And she was sitting right next to Damien's empty plate.

Vivian walked over, wearing a tight little smirk. "Oh, Sophia, there you are. You remember Celeste, don't you?"

Celeste tilted her head up. "Hello, Sophia. It has been such a long time. You look... nice."

"You are sitting in my chair," I said. My voice sounded tiny, even to my own ears.

"Oh, sweetie, there was a little mix-up with the names on the cards," Vivian said, waving her hand in the air like brushing away a fly. "Don't cause a scene. Look, you can sit down at the far end of the room near the band. It's much louder and more fun down there."

"My name was at this table this morning," I said, looking right at Damien. "I checked the list myself."

Celeste put on a fake, sad pout. "Oh no. I am so sorry. The party planner told me to sit here. Damien, should I move? I really don't want to make things awkward for your family."

Damien didn't look at me. He placed his hand right on the top of Celeste’s chair.

"Stay right there, Celeste," Damien said. His voice was flat. "The food is coming out now. Sophia, go sit at the lower table with Elise. We don't have time to swap dishes around."

"Damien..."

"Go sit down, Sophia."

It felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. Vivian didn't even hide her grin; she turned her back on me and started talking to a lady about an art show.

I stood there for three seconds while the whole room seemed to spin. Then I turned around and walked away. I didn't go to the little table by the loud drums. I couldn't. I walked straight past the tables, past the shiny chandeliers, and out through the side doors into the quiet hall.

"Tough luck," a voice called out.

Adrian was leaning against a tall marble post, holding a glass of brown liquor.

"I told you Damien doesn't care," Adrian whispered, stepping up so close his suit brushed mine. "If you were with me, Sophia, you’d never be pushed to the back. Look at him in there. He's already laughing with Celeste. He forgot you exist."

"Get away from me," I said, my voice shaking with anger.

"He's going to trade you in," Adrian said, his eyes hard. "Our mother wants Celeste. Damien wants the family business. You do the math, little nurse."

I shoved past his arm and ran down the empty hallway until I found the private restroom. I ducked inside, threw the lock, and leaned my forehead against the cool wooden door, gasping for air like I had been underwater.

In the big mirror, I looked pale. My expensive dress was pretty, but my eyes looked totally worn out. Three years. I had spent three whole years trying to fit into their cold, shiny world, and Damien had replaced me in three seconds.

A knock tapped on the door.

"Sophia? It's Marcus."

I wiped my face with my fingers, unlocked the bolt, and opened the door a crack. Marcus, Damien’s lawyer, stood in the hall. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and his eyebrows were pulled together with real worry.

"Are you okay?" Marcus asked. "I saw what Vivian did at the table. It was dirty, Sophia. Even for her."

"Damien told me to go sit by the speakers," I whispered.

Marcus sighed and shook his head. "He’s got blinders on tonight because of the business deal. He's not thinking straight."

"He never thinks straight about me," I said. "Do you think I'm stupid, Marcus?"

"No," Marcus said softly. "I think you're the only honest person in this whole building." He pulled out his car keys. "Do you want me to call a driver? You can go home. I'll tell Damien you got a headache."

I looked at the keys in his hand. Leaving sounded so easy. I could hide in the dark car, go to the empty house, and cry in bed.

Then I looked back toward the doors of the bright ballroom.

If I ran away, Vivian would tell everyone I threw a childish tantrum. Celeste would smile and pour Damien another drink. They would win.

"No," I told Marcus, standing up straight. "Keep your keys."

Marcus blinked. "You're going back in?"

"Yes," I said. My hands weren't shaking anymore. They were steady and cold. "I'm going to walk right back into that room. I am going to sit by the band, eat my dinner, and watch them. And when this party is over, my husband is going to look me in the eye and tell me what this marriage is actually worth."