Todos los capítulos de CHASING HIS BARREN EX WIFE : Capítulo 111 - Capítulo 120

Chapter 107POV FREYAThe beach smelled like salt and freedom.The moment my feet sank into the sand, something inside me loosened. The sea stretched endlessly ahead, gray-blue and restless, waves rolling in with a rhythm that felt older than pain. The air was colder than I expected, biting at my skin, but the sun hung low and stubborn, casting everything in soft gold.Bibi shrieked the second she saw the water.“IT’S HUGE,” she yelled, dropping her shoes and running straight toward it like the sea had personally invited her.“Bibi!” I called, laughing despite myself. “Wait!”Alan was already moving, long strides easy as he caught up to her before she got too close. He lifted her effortlessly, spinning her once as she squealed, her laughter cutting through the sound of the waves.“Eliza!” Bibi screamed next. “The water is trying to eat me!”Eliza rolled her eyes, tugging her coat tighter. “I warned you. Oceans are dramatic.”Lucien kicked off his shoes beside her. “You love drama.”“I

Chapter 109POV FREYAThe boutique smelled like lace and patience.Soft music floated through the air, something instrumental and slow, like it knew this place held too many emotions at once. Dresses hung everywhere, white and ivory and champagne, some dramatic, some simple, all of them heavy with promises people believed in when they walked through these doors.Eliza froze the moment we stepped inside.“I hate this already,” she muttered.I smiled gently. “You haven’t even insulted a dress yet. Give it time.”She snorted, then linked her arm with mine anyway. “If I cry, I’m blaming you.”“That’s fine,” I said. “I’ve been blamed for worse.”A consultant appeared immediately, eyes lighting up the second she saw Eliza. “Bride?” she asked excitedly.Eliza pointed at herself like she was offended by the accusation. “Unfortunately.”The woman laughed, clearly thinking Eliza was joking. I didn’t correct her.We started slow. That was the mistake.The first dress Eliza tried was dramatic. Bi

Chapter 111FREYAThe car was already packed when we reached them.Suitcases stacked too neatly. Windows rolled down. Eliza stood beside the open door, fingers laced with Lucien’s, her smile too bright, eyes too wet. The kind of smile you wear when you are standing at the edge of something new and you are terrified it might actually be good.“Forever home,” Lucien said, tapping the roof lightly as if he needed to reassure himself it was real.Eliza laughed. “Don’t say it like that. It makes it sound like a fairytale.”“You married me,” he replied. “You already crossed that line.”She turned to me then, and the laughter fell away.For a moment, neither of us spoke.She pulled me into her arms so suddenly I almost stumbled. Her embrace was fierce, desperate, familiar. The kind of hug you give when you know life is about to separate you in small but permanent ways.“Don’t disappear,” she whispered into my hair.“I won’t,” I promised, though we both knew distance had its own quiet cruelty

Chapter 113Freya’s POVThe school office smelled like crayons, paper, and something faintly sweet. Glue, maybe. Or childhood. It hit me the moment I stepped inside, like my body remembered this place even if my mind pretended it didn’t. Bright posters lined the walls. Tiny chairs sat in a crooked row near the window. A mural of smiling animals welcomed everyone in bubble letters.Bibi bounced beside me, her backpack nearly swallowing her whole.“Do you think they have a library?” she asked, craning her neck to see past the counter.“They definitely do,” I said. “Every school does.”“Good,” she nodded solemnly. “Because I already read all my books.”I smiled and approached the front desk where a woman with kind eyes and a cardigan the color of soft peaches looked up at us.“Good morning,” she said. “You must be here to register.”“Yes,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. “My daughter. Bibi.”Bibi waved enthusiastically. “Hi. I’m very nice.”The woman chuckled. “I can see that.”

Chapter 115FREYAFour years later, the morning announces itself by violence.Not the dramatic kind. The domestic kind. The kind that starts with an alarm screaming like it has been personally wronged by my existence.I slap at my phone with the accuracy of someone who has done this too many times, miss it twice, then finally silence it.For three blessed seconds, there is peace.Then from down the hall, a voice shrieks, “MUM.”I close my eyes.“I’m awake,” I say to the ceiling. “I was awake before you yelled. I was born awake.”Footsteps thunder toward the bedroom. The door flies open.Bibi stands there, hair half braided, uniform on but crooked, backpack dragging behind her like a wounded animal. She is taller. Thirteen now. All limbs and opinions.“I can’t find my other shoe,” she says.“Have you checked your feet,” I mumble, sitting up.She stares at me. “Why would it be there.”I point. “Because one is already on your foot.”She looks down. Pauses. Then sighs deeply. “I’m stresse