All Chapters of Dear Ex-husband, I Don't Love You Anymore : Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

I'm beginning to relax. The wind off the water is cool enough to raise bumps along my arms, but I don’t move because it's calming. Mikhail sits beside me on the sand, silent and still. He was quieter than Jaylen. And it was sort of comforting that I could use the opportunity to collect my thoughts. I angled my head to look at him, the moon washing him in silver like he was carved out of something older than stone. I can still feel the knot in my chest from earlier, the car, the running, the hiding.But the beach… my daughter loved the beach and I'm finding solitude in just that little truth. I think he felt the shift in me when I said that. He hasn’t pushed us to leave since. Not once. And his understanding scares me more than aggression ever could…. This wasn't the Mikhail that I encountered in the lab a few weeks ago. We sit like that for minutes… maybe hours… two people pretending to be normal on a night that isn’t.He reaches his hand out and starts drawing something on the sa

I caught up to him just as he reached the parking lot.Mikhail didn’t look back, not even once, but I knew he could hear my footsteps as I quietly followed behind him He reached the car, unlocked it, and then very gently, he opened the passenger door for me.I was beginning to think that all of these things were strange but it came to him freely. He didn't expect a thank you, he didn't expect me to react. He just did it. For a moment I just stood there, studying him in the dim lot of lights. His face was unreadable again, carved from ice and shadow, but there was something else underneath. Something like tension. Or fury held together by threads.“Get in,” he said quietly. Not an order. Not quite a request either. More like a boundary he needed me to cross.I climbed in.The door shut with a soft thud, and the moment it closed, he came around, slid into the driver’s seat, and locked the doors. That sharp click of metal felt louder than any scream.My heartbeat jumped.He didn’t sta

The motel bathroom door clicks open with a thin puff of steam. Diana steps out with a towel wrapped around her chest. Her hair is damp and curling at the ends. The cheap bathroom light flickers behind her, casting her in warm gold.Mikhail is sitting on the edge of the bed. With his elbows braced against his knees. At the sound of the door, he doesn’t turn. He only stiffens imperceptibly, his gaze fixed on the fraying carpet.“I’m done,” she says softly.He nods without looking. “I’ll… turn around.”That’s all he says and he actually does turn around but the tension in the room shifts. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even risk a glance as she crosses to the small dresser and starts pulling on the clothes he bought earlier.It’s almost awkward and almost funny how rigidly he keeps his gaze elsewhere. His jaw tightens each time fabric rustles, but otherwise he remains still, disciplined. And the strangest part is that it feels… respectful. Soft. Not the controlling Mikhail she argued with in t

The motel lobby smelled like burnt coffee and old carpet. It was one of those places frozen in a decade nobody asked for. The vending machines buzzed faintly in the corner. Outside, cars wooshed by on the wet road, their headlights smearing across the lobby windows in tired streaks of yellow.Diana sat beside me on the sagging brown couch, her attention drifting everywhere except me. She’d insisted on coming out of the room, claiming she “just wanted to look around,” and I didn’t have it in me to tell her no. So I followed her like a shadow that pretends it’s not one.She sat upright with her legs tucked close. Her gaze flicked from the dusty potted plant to the rotating pastry case to the door where every kind of stranger walked in and out. She didn’t look scared. Just… alive. Curious. She was beautiful. Extremely and breathtakingly beautiful and I could watch her now that her mind was on something else. The old television mounted in the corner muttered through commercials. A weath

Something inside me stalled. The kind of stillness that sinks into the ribs before the mind even understands the weight of the words.Tell me about Neah. The words echo in my mind over and over again and I wonder if I should talk. He didn’t look at me, which made it worse. Or maybe kinder. Maybe he knew what he was asking and couldn’t bring himself to meet my eyes.Because I might never start if I'm looking at someone else. This would be like sharing my thoughts in an empty room but knowing someone was outside the door, eavesdropping. It was like a soothing balm. I set the book down on my lap. My fingers stayed hooked over the cover for a moment, like I needed something to hold on to. When I started talking, I couldn't stop. “She was… small,” I said. My voice came out softer than I meant. “Smaller than the doctors expected. They said she’d catch up but she never really did. She was always this tiny little thing and then we ran the tests and they found the Myocarditis and her health