Too Late To Win Me Back Mr Ex Husband

“So... Sophia is back from London?”Elena's voice was barely above a whisper.She stared at the screen of her phone, even though the video had already ended. Her mind kept replaying the same few seconds. Adrian standing at the party. Sophia walking toward him. His arms going around her as if they had never been apart.She couldn't understand what she was feeling.It was more than jealousy.It was humiliation.For five years, she had believed there was something wrong with her because her husband never wanted to touch her. She had spent countless nights wondering if she wasn't attractive enough or if she had somehow failed as a wife. She had blamed herself for a problem she now realized had nothing to do with her.Adrian had never wanted her.His heart had belonged to someone else.Elena wiped her cheeks and looked toward the door.She remembered the day she married him. She had been nervous, but happy. She had believed that love would come with time, even if it wasn't there between th

Elena stood in the middle of the bedroom long after Adrian left.His last words kept playing in her mind.“If you are tired of this marriage, then leave.”She looked at the closed door.A strange calm came over her.She had cried enough.She had spent too much time trying to understand a man who never explained himself to her. She had made excuses for his distance and convinced herself that things would eventually change.But she was tired.Not the kind of tired that could be fixed by sleeping for a few hours.She was tired of feeling unwanted in her own marriage.Tired of waiting.Tired of pretending that everything was fine.Elena slowly wiped her face and walked toward the wardrobe.She opened it and pulled out a suitcase.She did not throw anything around. She did not cry again. She simply started packing.One dress after another went into the suitcase.Then her shoes, books, bags, and a few personal things she had collected over the years.She moved calmly, almost as if someone e

Adrian did not sleep that night.He sat in his study with the lights off and his phone on the desk. Every twenty minutes it buzzed. Every time, he picked it up too fast.Every time, it was Marcus. And every time, the news was the same."Nothing yet, sir."By midnight, Marcus had checked every hotel near the university. By two in the morning, he had called three hospitals and two police stations. By four, he had called Elena's college friend, her old art teacher, and a woman she once bought paint from.No one had seen her.At six, the phone rang again."Sir, we have a small update," Marcus said. His voice was tired. "The taxi driver says he took her to a guesthouse near the bus station. But the owner says no one by that name stayed there. She paid cash. She left before dawn."Adrian's jaw tightened. "Bus station?""We checked the cameras. There are too many people. We couldn't find her.""Her phone?""Switched off. And the number is dead now, sir. It looks like she destroyed the SIM."

Elena sat on the edge of her bed and counted her money for the third time.The numbers did not change.After paying Mrs. Park for the first month, she had enough left for food, paint, and a few bus rides. That was all. Her school fees were paid through Scholarship,but art needed brushes, canvas, and good paper. And life needed rent.She pressed her hands to her face and breathed out slowly.She was not afraid of work. She had worked before. Small art jobs, late nights, saving coin by coin. But in Adrian's house, she had never needed to count anything. Mrs. Carter had put food in front of her every day. The bills were always paid. It had been a quiet kind of comfort, but it had made her small. She had forgotten what a coin felt like in her own hand.Now every coin was hers. Every coin was hard. And somehow that felt better.She looked around the little room. The cracked paint by the door. The window with the red roofs. The pencil sketch of the pigeon pinned above her desk. It was not m

The phone rang while Elena was washing paintbrushes in the sink.She dried her hands on her apron and looked at the screen. It was Mr. Grant, the lawyer she had met on the day she left."Mrs. Hart," he said. He called her that now, because she had asked him to. "I am sorry to call so early. I have news about your husband."Elena sat down slowly on the edge of the bed. "Has he signed?""No."She closed her eyes."His lawyer called me yesterday. His name is Mr. Lowell, and he is very good, and very polite. He said Mr. Blackwood needs more time. He said that with your health problems, it would not be right to rush such a serious matter.""My health problems?""It is what he told the press. He is using it now to slow us down. A husband cannot sign divorce papers while his wife is ill and far away. Or so he says."Elena stared at the yellow wall. She felt a slow, hot anger rise in her chest.Ill. Far away. He had said it on television, in front of the whole country, and now he was using hi