All Chapters of Chasing His Ex-wife Back : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

I swallowed hard, trying to steady the panic that threatened to consume me. Every instinct screamed to run back, to hide, to protect the fragile bubble I had built. But deep inside, I knew I couldn’t. Not now. Not with Kent, Rolland, and Anastasia depending on me.The air felt thick, pressing against my chest as I tried to think, to plan, to strategize. I replayed Abbas’s words over and over: “Bring the papers. Alone.” No witnesses. No backup. No room for error. And the implication hung there, unspoken but sharp as a blade: the stakes were higher than I could have imagined.I glanced back at the children. Rolland, stubborn and defiant, oblivious to the danger yet acutely aware of every adult misstep. Kent, fragile, still recovering, his trust in the world shaken but not broken. Anastasia, innocent, radiating a light I had fought to protect. And then there was Sebastian, standing tall despite the tension in his body, waiting for permission, waiting for trust.I realized with a jolt tha

The doctor hesitated, and those two seconds nearly stopped my heart. Then, finally, he nodded slowly. “He survived the night. The surgery was extensive — multiple transfusions, internal repair, a collapsed lung. He’s in critical condition, but stable. He won’t wake for some time. But…” The doctor’s voice softened. “He’s alive.”The breath left me in a shuddering exhale. My shoulders sagged, my body trembling from relief and exhaustion all at once.Alive. He was alive.The doctor gave a faint, professional smile and excused himself, leaving the door slightly ajar. The quiet returned — heavier now, but less suffocating.Liam reached for my hand. This time, he didn’t hesitate. His palm was warm, grounding, steady — the only thing in the room that didn’t feel fragile.I clung to him like an anchor, my eyes closing as tears slipped down my cheeks. “Don’t let go,” I whispered.“I won’t,” he said softly. And for once, I believed him.For a long moment, we sat like that — silent, breathing, e

The drive home felt like moving through molasses. Streetlights smeared into long, indifferent lines as the city passed by, and I sat rigid in the passenger seat, hands folded so tightly my knuckles ached. Sebastian had left the kids at Peter’s. I’d told myself it was a reasonable compromise — supervised time, a buffer between the past and whatever fragile beginning we were trying to build. Now the distance between me and them felt unbearable.At the gate I paused, fingers hovering over the buzzer like a guilty thief. For a second I wanted to turn the car around, take them straight back, hoist them into the front seat and never leave their sides again. But that was panic, not strategy. Panic was what had led to the messy mistakes of the past. I had to be smarter. I had to be cruelly practical.I climbed the short stone steps and stood on the porch, breathing in the sharp autumn air until the fury simmered to a manageable heat. Peter’s house was all dark glass and angles, an intimidatin

Evelyn’s POVAbbas’s shoulders sagged, the weight of his confession settling on him like a shroud. “Evelyn,” he said quietly, his voice rough with regret, “you have every right to hate me. I deserve that. But I need you to understand—it wasn’t that simple.”I stared at him, the sterile lights turning everything too bright, too clear. “Not that simple?” My voice broke, bitter laughter spilling from me again. “You left me to rot in a world that chewed me alive, and you call it not that simple?”He took a step closer, his limp more pronounced now, every movement deliberate—as though afraid I’d bolt. “If I had stayed, they would’ve killed you,” he said, the words coming fast now, desperate. “Your mother was already in danger because of me. I thought leaving—disappearing—was the only way to keep you safe. To keep her safe.”Something twisted inside me at the mention of my mother. The air around us thickened. I could almost see her face, fading in memory, her voice, the warmth of her arms—a

Evelyn’s POVWhen the children were finally back in their beds, their breathing even and soft, I stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching them through the dim glow of the nightlight. Their small bodies were curled beneath the blankets, their faces serene, untouched—for now—by the ugliness threatening to seep into their world.The sight broke something inside me. I pressed a hand to my mouth to muffle the sob that threatened to escape, my chest tightening until it felt like the air itself was turning against me. I wanted to stay there forever, to stand guard over them, to be their shield, their wall, their everything. But walls could crack. Shields could shatter. And fathers—fathers could become monsters.I closed the door quietly and leaned back against it, my knees giving way as I slid down to the floor. My pulse thudded unevenly, a hollow drumbeat echoing in my ears. The house was silent again, save for the whisper of wind against the windows and the faint ticking of the clo