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2025-07-05 02:29:01Liam’s POV
In my heart, I made a promise: when she’s ready to come home, we’ll be waiting for her. Not to beg her forgiveness, but to welcome her as a whole woman—one no longer broken by the weight of the wrong kind of love.I looked up at the city sky growing dimmer, the sun slowly sinking behind the tall buildings. Sienna… do you know how hard we tried to hold on to you? But if leaving is your path to finding yourself again… then I have to let go, even with a heart that feels shattered.“Noah,” I called softly, making sure he was really listening. “Daddy hurt Mommy before. A lot. But I promise, starting now, I’ll learn to change. I’ll try to become someone Mommy can trust again. But that will take time. Mommy needs to see with her own eyes that we’re worth coming home to.”Noah nodded against my shoulder.“So… we wait for Mommy?” he asked quietly.“We wait. But we also work on ourselves. You be a good, patient boy. And Daddy will learn to fi
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Forgotten Wife: My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left 24
Sienna’s POV The kitchen light gradually dimmed, thanks to the automatic timer. Yet, we stayed right where we were, enveloped in a silence that spoke volumes. Deep down, I felt a flicker of hope—that maybe I could heal, one word at a time. I sat still, my eyes following an empty soda can as it rolled under the table. I didn’t need to respond to Liliana; I knew she understood. Sometimes, words don’t need a reply. They just need to be felt. I glanced at the wall clock. It was almost one in the morning, and the sounds of traffic outside had faded to a whisper. I stifled a yawn and turned to Liliana, who was still on the couch, rubbing the back of her neck. “Liliana,” I called softly. “Do you want to sleep now? I can grab the blanket.” Liliana opened her eyes halfway and nodded, her fatigue evident. “Yeah, I’m really sleepy. That soda totally knocked me out.” I smiled and got up. “Alright. Go wash up first if you’d like. I’ll make our bed.” “Yes, ma’a
Forgotten Wife: My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left 23
Sienna’s POV The night had quietly passed us by. The clock on the wall moved nearer to midnight and the table was a jumbled mess of empty soda cans and leftover munchies—a bag of chips open, some chocolate stained on crumpled tissue and a bowl that used to hold popcorn but was now bare. Still, neither of us wanted to clean up. Liliana and I were comfy on the couch, our shoulders touching as we shared silly jokes and soft laughs while thinking back about school days. “Do you recall?” Liliana asked, enjoying the final bit of chocolate we had found in the drawer “when we missed gym class since we just didn’t feel like running?” I laughed a little. "And we found ourselves hiding in the tools room, eating chips from your bag. Then our gym teacher nearly caught us when he went by—" “—and we stopped like figures!” Liliana cut in, laughing hard. I joined in, our laughs echoing in the little apart
Forgotten Wife: My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left 22
Sienna’s POV I walked along the sidewalk with slow steps, blending into the current of strangers who didn’t know my name. The city lights started to reflect on the wet asphalt—maybe from a passing drizzle, or leftover water from a street cleaner. I lowered my gaze, hugging my bag tightly to my chest. And that’s when I realized—I wasn’t out here searching for inspiration. I was trying to find myself again. Not as Liam’s wife. Not as Noah’s mother. But as Sienna. The woman who once dreamed of being a writer—not for recognition, but because writing made her feel alive. Because writing used to be the only way to let the world know she existed. I had just… forgotten. I stepped toward the bus stop, waiting to go home. Across the street, a family laughed together. Their child whined for ice cream, and the mother giggled as she stroked his head. The scene pierced me gently. I wasn’t envious of thei
Forgotten Wife: My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left 21
Sienna’s POV That would be my new foundation—not just in writing, but in life. I could no longer keep pretending I was okay. No longer hide pain behind polite smiles or sweet phrases. Because apparently, when I was honest, my writing came alive. And maybe… my heart could begin to heal too. I straightened my back, looking ahead. Cars passed, pedestrians stared at their phones, a child laughed as their balloon almost floated away. The world kept moving, and I… was still here. But not to hide. I was sitting on these steps not because I had lost my way, but because I had finally stopped running. I thought of Noah. His smile. His voice when he said “Mommy.” His face when he cried. It hurt, yes. But I also knew, I didn’t want to return as the woman I used to be. I wanted him to see the best version of me—the version no longer afraid of the truth. I walked to the nearby park, sat on an empty bench, and took out my laptop. My fingers hovered uncertai
Forgotten Wife: My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left 20
Sienna’s POVToday, I wore a plain white blouse and beige trousers—the most neutral and safe outfit I owned. Not too flashy, but tidy enough to show sincerity. I stood in front of the mirror in my small apartment, making sure my collar wasn’t wrinkled, then tucking away a few strands of hair that had slipped out of the clip.My breaths were shallow, and my heart pounded like I had just run away from something. But it wasn’t fear. It was hope. And somehow, hope always felt more terrifying than fear itself.Today wasn’t just any day. Today, I would meet a representative from a foreign publishing house, opening a new branch in the city. They were offering local writers the chance to submit manuscripts—and I had gathered the courage to try.Today, I was submitting the first chapter of my manuscript. A story that had danced in my head for years. A story I had once abandoned, too busy being a wife, a mother, a strong woman pretending never to grow tired. And now, that stor
Forgotten Wife: My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left 19
Liam’s POV At home, I turned on the dining room lights. The atmosphere was quiet, cold, and honestly… it felt strange without Sienna. No smell of broth, no sound of pots clanging, no soft footsteps from the kitchen. But this time, I tried not to let the emptiness consume us.I laid out the food on the table, arranging it as if we were pretending to throw a little party. “Well then, young prince, your special dinner is served!”Noah gave a small smile and sat in his chair. I fed him the first bite of chicken popcorn. “Is it good?” I asked. He nodded quickly. “It’s okay… but Mommy makes it crispier.”I swallowed a bitter smile. Of course. Sienna always knew how to cook his favorite meals, even without needing to ask. “Yeah… Mommy’s really good at that,” I said.We ate slowly. Not as cheerful as usual. But warm enough to be a distraction. Now and then I asked about his school, his friend who got a new bike, and his drawing assignments. Noah answ
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