The Wife He Forgot To Love: Ex-husband Wants a Second Chance

Camille 

By seven o’clock, I’d checked my phone fourteen times.

Not because Ethan usually texted me.

He didn’t... Not anymore, anyway.

But today was different. Today was supposed to be different.

Seven years of marriage had to mean something.

I stood in the kitchen staring at the pan in front of me while Mrs. Lewis quietly arranged plates behind me. The smell of garlic butter and rosemary filled the air, mixing with the faint scent of the white roses I’d spent way too much money on that afternoon.

The apartment looked beautiful with warm lighting, candles, soft jazz drifting through the speakers, and the entire dining table decorated like something out of those luxury couple pages on I*******m.

It looked like love lived here.

Which was funny, considering I hadn’t really felt loved in this apartment for a long time.

“You should sit down for a bit, ma’am,” Mrs. Lewis said gently.

I glanced toward the clock on the oven.

7:06 PM.

“He said he’d be home by seven.”

She gave me the kind of look people gave you when they were trying not to say something they thought would hurt your feelings.

And suddenly, embarrassment crept up my throat.

Even the staff had noticed Ethan barely came home before midnight these days. They noticed I ate dinner alone most nights... Noticed I kept pretending everything was normal.

“I’ll wait a little longer,” I said quietly.

Mrs. Lewis hesitated before nodding and leaving the kitchen.

The second I was alone again, my shoulders sagged.

I stared down at my phone.

Still nothing.

I hated that this was what our marriage had become. Me standing around waiting for scraps of attention from my own husband like some pathetic lovesick teenager.

The worst part was that Ethan hadn’t always been like this.

Sometimes I thought that was why it hurt so much.

Because I remembered him before.

Before Stone Global consumed every second of his life, and his smiles became rare.

There was a time Ethan used to look at me like I was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

On our first anniversary, he’d rented out an entire rooftop restaurant because I once mentioned wanting to see the skyline during dinner. I’d laughed at how excessive it was, and he’d pulled me into his lap right there at the table and said, “You’re my wife. Excessive is part of the job description.”

I smiled despite myself at the memory, but it faded as soon as it came. 

Sometimes it felt like I loved him more than he loved me... Like I was desperate for him to love me. 

The sound of the front door opening cut through the silence, making my heart jump.

I smoothed down my dress quickly before hurrying toward the foyer.

“Ethan?”

“In here.”

His voice sounded distracted. Tired, almost. 

I rounded the corner with a smile already forming.

But once again, it faded as soon as I saw the woman standing beside him. 

Vivian Laurent, my husband's favorite accessory. 

She was his newest executive consultant, and had been working closely with him for months now. 

Beautiful, polished, intimidatingly elegant Vivian Laurent. With her blonde hair and long, toned legs that made her look like a model, she looked like she belonged there, next to him. 

They fit together perfectly, and the sight did something unpleasant to my chest.

“Oh,” Vivian said first.

Her eyes moved past me toward the dining room.

Toward the candles.

The flowers.

The carefully arranged table.

Understanding flashed across her face almost instantly.

Meanwhile Ethan barely looked up from his phone as he loosened his tie.

“Traffic was insane,” he muttered.

I stared at him, waiting for him to say something.

Surely he remembered.

Surely.

 Vivian shifted awkwardly beside him as he slowly looked up.

His gaze followed hers toward the dining room, and I watched realization dawn across his face.

He looked like he genuinely forgot, and it made my stomach drop.

A strange ringing filled my ears.

Seven years.

Seven years together and he forgot our anniversary.

Again.

Not the first time.

But definitely the worst.

“Oh,” he said finally.

Just that.

Oh.

Something inside me cracked a little.

Vivian looked deeply uncomfortable now. “I can leave.”

“No, stay,” Ethan said absently, already typing something on his phone again. “You still need the revised projections for Tokyo.”

I folded my arms tightly across my stomach, suddenly cold despite the warmth in the apartment.

Mrs. Lewis appeared from the kitchen then froze awkwardly after taking in the scene.

“Should I serve dinner now?”

I looked at the table again, suddenly feeling stupid. Not angry, just stupid. 

Stupid because it only took that one, stupid word from him for me to realize that I was the only person still trying to save something that had been dying for a long time.

“No,” I said quietly. “Not yet.” 

Not ever again, I wanted to add, because what was even the point anymore?

Silence settled over the foyer as Mrs. Lewis walked away. 

Vivian looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.

Ethan exhaled as he finally slipped his phone into his pocket. “You could’ve reminded me.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry?” 

“You could've reminded me, Camille. How was I supposed to remember? You know how hectic things have been lately.”

I stared at him, hurt building in my chest, my eyes stinging. 

I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't going to cry. 

“I did remind you.” My voice cracked ever so slightly. 

Ethan frowned. 

“Three weeks ago. And last week. And yesterday morning when you left for work.”

His jaw tightened. “I was busy.”

A laugh almost escaped me then.

Nothing about this was funny, but I was afraid that if I didn't laugh, I was going to cry. I'd heard the excuse from him so many times, it'd become a song in my head. 

Vivian cleared her throat awkwardly. “I really should go.”

“Yes,” I said before Ethan could answer.

She hesitated, glanced at Ethan once, then gave me a small apologetic smile before leaving.

The front door clicked shut behind her, leaving us in heavy, uncomfortable silence. 

Ethan walked past me toward his office.“I need to take a call.”

I turned around quickly. “That’s it?” 

My voice came out sharper than intended. 

He paused. “What do you want me to say, Camille?”

The exhaustion in his voice hurt more than shouting would’ve. He sounded tired of this.

...Tired of me.

I swallowed hard, tears already blurring my vision. “I waited for you.”

His expression softened a fraction, but it lasted only a few seconds.

“I know.”

“Do you?” My voice cracked. “Because I don't think you do, Ethan. I waited because I thought maybe this year would be different.”

Something flickered across his face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. 

That was all I got from him nowadays. A quick flash of whatever emotion I chose to assume it to be. 

“You’re overthinking this.”

I looked at him for a long moment, too stunned to speak. 

How did we even get to this? From Ethan telling me he couldn't sleep without me, from waking up to morning kisses... From spending every free minute or seconds we got together, to this. 

To him brushing off my emotions like they didn't matter, like I didn't spend every waking hour analyzing the way he made me feel just to make sure I wasn't overreacting when I confronted him. 

If I felt stupid earlier, I was a total fool now. 

Before I could form any words, he checked his watch.

“I’ll eat later. Don't wait for me.”

Then he disappeared down the hallway toward his office, leaving me standing there alone.

Again.

As I stood still, watching him walk away, I realized one thing;

I was truly alone in this marriage, wasn't I?