Dear Ex-wife, You're More Than A Substitute

TESSA’S POV

There’s something about the cold air at the orphanage that always stings my eyes, maybe it’s the wind or maybe it’s just me being overly emotional again.

 I come here every December, like clockwork. It started as something... something to keep my hands busy. I told myself I was just dropping off knitted scarves and cookies. But really, I think I just needed to be around kids, any kids. Even if they weren’t mine.

 “Miss Tessa!” one of the little girls called as she ran up to me, her boots crunching in the gravel. Her name was Lila. She couldn’t be more than six years old, with messy pigtails and a chipped front tooth.

 I knelt down to her level and held out a soft pink scarf. “This one’s yours.”

 Her face lit up like I’d just handed her gold. “It’s so soft!” she squealed, wrapping it clumsily around her neck. “Did you really make this?”

 “I did,” I said with a smile. “All by hand.”

 “It smells like cookies,” she added, sniffing it.

 I laughed a little. “That’s probably because I spilled vanilla extract on the yarn last week.”

 She giggled and threw her arms around me. “You’re the best.”

 For a second, I froze. That kind of affection… it always catches me off guard. I slowly hugged her back, pressing my nose into her hair and letting my eyes fall shut. I knew I wasn’t supposed to have favorites, but this little girl reminded me so much of how I imagined my daughter would’ve been. Sweet. Bright. Clumsy in the cutest way.

 “You spoil them,” came a gentle voice behind me.

 I stood and turned to see Sister Helena, hands folded in front of her, eyes warm like always.

 “I try,” I replied softly. “I think they deserve it.”

 She nodded. “You have a very generous heart.”

 “I think I just have too much love with nowhere to put it.”

 She didn’t say anything to that... just smiled, like she understood more than I was ready to admit.

 The other donors and socialites were gathered on the other side of the courtyard, sipping hot tea and making shallow conversation. I knew I had to head over eventually. It was expected. Richard always said I didn’t have to mingle if I didn’t want to, but avoiding them just made the whispers worse.

 So I walked over, adjusting my coat, putting on that calm, polite face I’d perfected over the years.

 “Oh, look who’s finally joining us,” said Evelyn, the queen bee of high society, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “We were wondering if the children kidnapped you.”

 I smiled politely. “They’re much better company.”

 A few of the women laughed, but Evelyn’s smirk didn’t falter.

 “You really do love these little charity visits, don’t you?” she went on. “It’s admirable, considering how… unmotherly your life has turned out.”

 I felt that one in my chest. But I didn’t flinch. “Giving back doesn’t require children of your own.”

 “Still,” she continued, “it must be hard. All that effort, all those doctors. And nothing.”

 The others stayed quiet. Some glanced away. No one ever stood up to Evelyn. Not even me.

 “Richard’s such a patient man,” she added casually, sipping her tea. “If it were my husband, he would’ve found a solution by now. A surrogate, at least.”

 I hated that my throat burned. I hated that she knew it got to me.

 Before I could think of a reply, someone else jumped in.

 “You know,” said Clarissa Langford, leaning forward like she was sharing a secret, “there’s a boy inside who looks exactly like your husband. Same eyes, same jawline. I thought for a moment he might actually be Richard’s.”

 My stomach turned.

 They knew what they were doing. They wanted me to break.

 I set my teacup down slowly and looked Clarissa right in the eye. “You’re disgusting.”

 She didn’t like that. And the next second, her hand flew toward me, and she slapped me across the face.

 It wasn’t the hardest slap in the world, but it stunned me. The sting spread across my cheek like fire, and for a second, I couldn’t move. I could feel all their eyes on me... some shocked, some smug, none brave enough to say a word.

 “Clarissa” someone murmured, but no one intervened.

 I slowly lifted my hand to my cheek, still too stunned to speak.

 Then I heard footsteps. Fast ones.

 “Tessa?”

I turned, and there he was… Richard storming toward me like a man on a mission. His brows were furrowed, lips tight with worry. His gaze swept over me, then locked onto my eyes, that familiar look of panic surfacing. "Are you alright?" he asked, reaching up to gently cup my face, his thumb brushing just beneath one eye. "We should go to the hospital, just to be sure." But there was no need. I was fine, just a little shaken. Still, his overprotectiveness was something I had grown used to especially when it came to my eyes.

 His eyes zeroed in on the red scratch under my eye and when he saw the mark, something inside him snapped. I could see it. His jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists.

 He turned to her like a storm with a name.

 “You touched her?”

 “She was—” Clarissa began, but her voice shook now.

 “You scratched her face?”

 His voice was ice. Lethal. Even the other women backed up a little.

 “If that nail had gone a centimeter higher—” He broke off and dragged a hand over his jaw. “Do you even realize what you just did?”

 Clarissa’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “It was just a slap. She provoked me!”

 “She’s bleeding, you psychopath.”

 “She was being rude,” Clarissa said, suddenly not so smug.

 Richard stepped forward, slow and deliberate. “If you ever put your hands on her again, I swear I will make sure your husband’s company loses every contract we hold. And trust me, that’s a lot of money.”

 Clarissa went pale.

 He turned to the others. “And the rest of you? You just stood there?”

 No one met his gaze.

 “Cowards,” he muttered.

 Then he turned back to me, gently brushing my hair away from my cheek. “Let’s go.”

 He led me away from the courtyard, his arm protectively around my shoulders.

 When we were out of sight, I finally let out a shaky breath.

 “Thank you,” I whispered.

 He stopped walking and turned to me, cupping my face in his hands.

 “I should’ve been there,” he said. “I never should’ve let you face them alone.”

 “It’s not your fault,” I murmured.

 His thumbs brushed over my cheeks, and his eyes searched mine. “Tessa, listen to me. I don’t care what they say. I don’t care about children, or heirs, or any of that. I married you because… because I love you. Because you see me, and you still choose me. That’s more than I deserve.”

 Tears welled in my eyes, but I nodded. “You’re everything to me.”

 “And you’re everything to me,” he whispered. “And if I have to fight every spoiled woman in this city to protect you, I will. Gladly.”