Ex husband regret

The rain tapped softly against the glass windows of the Imperial Crown Hotel, each drop a steady rhythm in the otherwise calm lobby. The warm glow of the chandelier reflected on the marble floors, creating a sense of quiet luxury. Ethan sat in the far corner, his black coffee untouched on the table. His laptop screen glowed with business reports, graphs, and figures—numbers he usually drowned himself in to keep his mind busy.

It was just another Tuesday.

Or at least, it was supposed to be.

He adjusted his cufflinks absentmindedly, scanning an email from a foreign investor. The low hum of conversations around him was nothing more than background noise—until a voice cut through the air.

"Thank you, I’ll wait for my client here."

The sound froze him in place. It was soft yet confident, tinged with that familiar warmth that once brought him peace. He hadn’t heard it in five years, yet every syllable still carried weight in his memory.

Ethan’s hands stilled above his keyboard. Slowly—almost afraid of confirming what his heart already knew—he lifted his gaze.

There she was.

Mia.

She stood by the reception desk, speaking to the hotel concierge. She wore a deep red dress that hugged her curves elegantly, the kind of red that could make an entire room stop and stare. Her long, wavy hair framed her face perfectly, and her makeup was subtle but striking. She looked… different. Stronger. More refined. The Mia he remembered had a softness to her, a certain vulnerability. But this woman? She radiated an aura of self-assurance, as if the years apart had forged her into someone untouchable.

Ethan’s breath caught in his throat. He had imagined this moment a thousand times—running into her by accident, maybe on the street or at a café. In those daydreams, she would smile softly, maybe even hug him. But the reality unfolding before him was different.

She was breathtaking. And she didn’t know he was there.

For a moment, Ethan just sat there, watching. His heart pounded against his ribs, his palms grew cold. Memories began flooding back—her laughter in the mornings, the way she used to hum while cooking, the warmth of her hand in his when they walked together. And then, the last memory: her walking away from him, her suitcase in hand, tears streaming down her face.

The sharp sting of regret gnawed at his chest.

He pushed his coffee aside and stood up, adjusting his tie. His legs felt heavier than they should, but he willed himself to move. Each step toward her felt like stepping into dangerous territory—one wrong move, and she could slip away again.

“Mia,” he said, his voice low and careful, almost hesitant.

She turned, and their eyes met.

The years apart dissolved in that instant, but the warmth he had hoped for… wasn’t there. Her gaze was steady, polite, but distant. There was no flicker of recognition in the way her lips curved—just surprise, as if she’d stumbled upon an old acquaintance, not the man she once vowed to love forever.

“Ethan,” she replied, her tone measured, neutral.

Her calmness cut deeper than any harsh word could have. She didn’t sound angry. She didn’t sound happy. She sounded… indifferent.

“I didn’t know you were in the city,” Ethan said, searching her face for any sign of the old Mia—the one who used to look at him like he was her whole world.

“I have a meeting,” she replied, glancing at her watch. “I’m sure you’re busy too.”

Her words were like a closed door, but Ethan wasn’t ready to walk away. He wanted to say so much. *I’ve missed you. I’m sorry. I still love you.* But none of those words found their way out of his mouth.

Instead, he asked, “Can we… talk?”

Mia’s lips curved into a polite smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Ethan.”

She turned slightly, signaling the conversation was over.

Panic clawed at his chest. “Mia, please—”

But she was already walking past him. The faint scent of her perfume lingered in the air, mingling with the smell of coffee and rain. It was the same scent she used to wear, and it hit him like a punch to the gut.

He watched her cross the lobby, every step confident, graceful, and unhurried. She didn’t look back. Not even once.

Ethan stood there, frozen, his hands curled into fists at his sides. The lobby seemed colder now, emptier. Around him, the world moved on—guests checking in, staff attending to luggage, the rain still falling outside—but for him, time had stopped.

It had been five years. Five years since he let her go. Five years since his pride destroyed everything they had. He had thought about reaching out so many times, but the fear of rejection always stopped him. And now… here she was, standing in front of him again—and slipping away just as easily.

His chest tightened with a mix of longing and frustration. *No,* he told himself. *Not this time.*

He took a deep breath and turned toward the window, watching as Mia exited the hotel and stepped into a waiting black car. He memorized the license plate without even realizing it.

“Sir, will you be needing anything else?” a passing staff member asked politely.

Ethan shook his head. “No… I’ve got what I came for.”

But that wasn’t true.

Because what he had come for—he didn’t even know until now—was her.

And as the rain continued to fall, Ethan made himself a silent promise.

This time, he wouldn’t let her walk away so easily.