All Chapters of Chasing His Ex-wife Back : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The house was quiet again, but not in the warm, familiar way it used to be.The silence now had weight—an invisible heaviness that pressed against my chest, that seeped into the walls, the floor, the very air I breathed. It wasn’t peaceful silence. It was the kind that listens. The kind that waits. The kind that knows.Every creak of the house sounded like accusation.Every breath felt like confession.After the birthday chaos, after the laughter and the cake, after Sebastian’s sudden presence had pulled the ground out from under me, I had thought maybe—just maybe—I could breathe again. For one fleeting second, I’d let myself believe that the world could be stitched back together with frosting and candles.But children have a way of asking the questions adults don’t dare to voice.And mine… mine weren’t going to let me hide.The walls still held the echoes of last night—laughter that had come too easily, too desperately; the faint tremor of surprise when Sebastian appeared; the way hi

Sebastian’s face shifted—just slightly, but enough for me to see the flicker of pain he tried to hide. His shoulders squared, as if steadying himself before walking into fire.“I never forgot,” he said softly. “Not for a single day.”The words were calm, but they landed with the force of something much heavier—something broken being offered back, piece by piece. His gaze didn’t waver from Kent, though I saw the tightness in his jaw, the faint tremor in his hand resting against the table.Kent’s lip trembled. “Then why didn’t you come back?” His voice wavered, brittle, each word straining through years of questions that had gone unanswered. “If you remembered… why didn’t you come home?”Sebastian inhaled deeply, as if the air itself burned. “Because I couldn’t.”The room seemed to still again. Even the faint hiss of the stove faded into silence.Kent blinked. “Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?”The challenge in his tone was soft, but it carried weight far beyond his age. I wanted to step in—to pr

The morning light spilled softly through the curtains, but for once, I wasn’t the first awake.When I stumbled downstairs, still rubbing the sleep from my eyes, laughter drifted from the kitchen.I froze in the doorway.Sebastian stood by the counter, sleeves rolled up, hair damp as if he’d just showered. A frying pan hissed on the stove, the smell of butter and sugar thick in the air. Anastasia perched on a stool beside him, swinging her legs and giggling every time he flipped a pancake too high and nearly missed catching it.“Again, Daddy!” she squealed, clapping her small hands.My chest tightened. The word hit harder than I expected. Daddy. She’d said it so easily, like it had always been waiting on her tongue, patient for the right moment to be spoken.Sebastian grinned at her, eyes crinkling in that familiar way that once undid me completely. “One more,” he said, mock-serious, “but don’t tell your mother I almost burned the last one.”Anastasia giggled, whispering loudly, “Secre

Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat. The words hung between them, heavy, unreal.“Tied… by blood?” she whispered. “Albert, what do you mean?”Albert’s gaze drifted toward the ceiling, as if searching for strength there. “There’s more to your father’s story than you were ever told,” he murmured. “And more to the people who destroyed your life than you think.”Her heart began to hammer. “My father?” she echoed, the word sharp and bitter on her tongue. “You told me he was dead—that he—”“I told you what I needed to,” Albert interrupted, his tone still soft but laced with quiet authority. “At the time, I thought it was mercy. But the past has a way of clawing its way back, no matter how deep you bury it.”Evelyn’s grip on his hand tightened. “You’re scaring me.”“I wish I didn’t have to.” His breath hitched, his face tightening in pain before he continued. “Your father wasn’t the man the papers painted him to be. He made enemies—dangerous ones. And when he vanished, I thought that was th

The morning after Abbas’s call, the world felt heavier, as though the air itself pressed against my chest. I barely slept, tossing and turning until the first gray streaks of dawn crawled across the sky. Every shadow in the room seemed sharper, every tick of the clock louder, counting down to something I wasn’t sure I was ready to face. By the time I rose, my body ached, my muscles stiff from a restless night, but my mind was restless, buzzing with thoughts I couldn’t silence. Albert’s fragile face in my memory, the urgency in Abbas’s clipped voice, Sebastian’s shadow in the doorway of my heart—all of it tangled together in a knot I couldn’t loosen.Downstairs, the children were already gathered around the breakfast table. The morning sun filtered weakly through the blinds, painting stripes across the floor and the worn wooden chairs. Rolland sat stiffly, his spoon clinking rhythmically against his bowl of cereal, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the table. Anastasia’s gaze followed me the