All Chapters of Ex-wife Revenge : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

“One more thing.” I kept my voice flat, careful. “I need a urine sample.”Her face was drained of color.For the second time since she walked in, she looked afraid and that gave me my first breath of relief.She rolled her eyes at me secretly, not knowing I had caught them with a blaze of annoyance burning in them. She let her bag drop to the chair and took the disposable cup. Her fingers squeezed it so hard the plastic creaked. She walked into the restroom and slammed the door.A hot chill of sweat covers my face. I exhaled hard as if my breath had been held for 10 minutes. I could feel my head aching already, from the pumpers that I could discover after I ran the test and I pray everything will be negative.I have been pacing through with my heavy heart racing hard for about 10 minutes since she entered and hasn’t come out. I reached for the wall and leaned against it, resting my trembling body against and I saw my reflection in the mirror in front of me.I march forward to it. My

I headed back upstairs to wash and get myself clean again, suppressing my pale face with cold water. I got dressed, not even having the energy or feeling like going to work again. My body ached as if I had carried a week’s worth of heartbreak on my shoulders.So, I settled down on the chair trying to rest my nerves since the cooling water I splashed on myself didn't do much or reduce the pain in my heart. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and my face looked composed, but inside, I was unraveling — thread by thread.I didn't know what to do again at this point. I wanted him to confess to me and maybe I could find a way to forgive him despite knowing the pain won't leave but I thought if he had said the truth, I might later forget it after a long time.But then, a thought crawled into my mind.If he wouldn’t confess, I would make him.I reached for my phone, my fingers trembling so badly that I almost dropped it. The screen unlocked at the sight of my face. I tapped Amara’s contac

After we made love, I hated how good it felt. How my body still remembered his touch even when my heart had forgotten how to trust him. He was so damn good — too good. Like he knew exactly how to make me forget the truth, even for a night. My night was good, nerves calmed and after weeks I was able to sleep and relax my mind.But something happened before dawn, I heard the sound of the door clicked slightly closed, and the sound woke me. I turned myself and found out I was left alone on the bed. I rolled myself off the bed and saw his phone was no longer on the lamp stand.By morning, my chest felt too heavy to breathe. I took my bag and headed straight to the divorce firm. If I didn’t move now, I’d lose the last thread of sanity holding me together.The man sitting across from me was polite but sharp-eyed, the kind that dealt with heartbreak for breakfast. “You have the upper hand,” he said, sliding a folder across the polished table. “Your husband doesn’t know you’re aware of the a

I slammed the brake so hard the tires screeched. The car jerked to a stop. I jumped out, the door banging shut behind me. I slammed the door and stormed inside; my heels clicking against the marble floor like tiny sparks of fury. I need to check it all, check everywhere. I rush inside our bookstore room quickly and push the door open. My fingers trembled as I yanked open drawers, scattering books across the floor. Boxes toppled, papers fell like feathers — useless, meaningless. I dug through everything until my arms ached, my breath shallow and ragged. I sigh heavily as I couldn't find anything yet and it has been 20 minutes since I entered. My gaze landed on the brown file- I dug my hand inside and pulled everything out in anger. It was all Noah’s paper work. “Fuck!” I cursed, pushing the bookshelf by my side to tumble. I broke down as tears blurred my vision, the saltiness causing my eyes to hurt. My heart beating fast, tears streaming hard. Where could he keep it? Where

Noah hadn’t come home last night. By morning, the silence in our house was louder than ever.And when I got to work, the first person waiting for me — of all people — was Henry.“You look exhausted,” he said, studying me with that calm, probing gaze he always wore. “Rough night?”I didn’t reply, my gaze was focused on the A4 paper slip of the test he had done earlier. “You have high cholesterol levels,” I whispered, pushing my chair to his side to check his eyes. “You might even be developing a fatty liver,” I said softly. “It’s nothing serious yet, but ignoring it never ends well. You should move more. Sweat a little.”He grinned. “Does golf not count?”“No, you need to do something to make you sweat at least two to three times a week.”“Ouch,” he laughed, fastening his shirt. “You make it sound like I’m a middle-aged disaster.”I smirked. “You’re not doing too badly for someone in his forties. But why do you always get your checkups elsewhere? Afraid of my needle?”I said, sounding