All Chapters of Dear Ex-husband, I Don't Love You Anymore : Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

Diana pulled away first. It wasn’t dramatic, just one quick breath breaking the warmth between them. Her lips tingled where his had been. She could still taste him. She could still feel the way he had leaned in with something hungry and unguarded.She stepped back a single inch. It felt like a mile.Mikhail was just as stunned as she was. His breathing was fast and uneven. Every inhale brushed against her cheek. Warm. Shaken. Too honest.She swallowed. “We should leave. He might come back with other people.”Mikhail didn’t move.Instead, his hands lifted. He grabbed her by the waist and pushed her back against the door. It wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t meant to frighten her. It felt like he was anchoring her in place because everything inside him had gone unsteady.His eyes searched hers with a kind of disbelief she had never seen on him.“Why did you kiss me?” he asked.He wasn’t angry. He was… lost. Like the world had shifted under his feet and he was trying to understand what it mea

Mikhail wakes first.He always does. His body never trusts sleep for long, never allows him to sink too deep, not even with exhaustion pulling at his bones. But this time, there’s something different. Something is wrong. Something warm.His eyes open slowly and the first thing he feels is weight. A soft, living weight across his chest.And breath. Slow, steady breath against the curve of his shoulder.His entire body goes still.Diana is pressed up against him.Not touching accidentally. Not a brush of limbs. She is tucked into him as if her body spent the whole night making its own decisions. Her cheek rests lightly against the fabric of his shirt. One of her legs is between his, warm and soft. And her hand, small and almost curled, lies right over his ribs.They’d slept on opposite sides. He remembers that clearly. He remembers the way she’d kept her distance, the way he told himself he preferred that distance.But now she’s here, wrapped around him like she belongs there, and he do

The rain had calmed but the quiet between them carried its own weather. They sat side by side on the small hotel bed, the television flickering over their faces with shifting colors. Some documentary about mountains. Neither of them were watching. It was only there to fill the space where last night’s tension still lingered like a ghost.Diana shifted under the blanket, adjusting her legs. Mikhail sat rigid, elbows on his knees, sharpening his knife the way some people tapped their feet. Slow. Steady. Compulsive. He never looked at the screen. He only listened to the sound. The metallic scrape. The soft hum of the TV. The quiet of her breathing.After a while he stood.“I need the bathroom,” he said.She nodded and watched him walk away. The door clicked shut behind him.The silence that followed felt different. Looser. As if the room let out a breath it had been holding.Her gaze drifted to his things on the dresser. His bag, half open. A black shirt folded with unnatural precision.

The lobby smelled faintly of rain and wet asphalt. The bar fight still lingered in my veins, the echo of Mikhail’s fists and the sharp crack that made my stomach twist. I could still see the man sprawled on the floor, blood welling from the back of his skull. I shivered, though I wasn’t sure if it was the cold or something else.Mikhail followed me out of the bar without a word. His coat brushed against my arm as he walked behind me, each step deliberate, measured, a predator contained by his own control. I could feel the tension coiled inside him, waiting, dangerous, but for me. The way he held himself near me, I could almost forget the violence he’d just unleashed. Almost.We walked silently to the car. Rain poured from the sky in sheets, the thunder rolling above us like the world itself was bruised. He opened the passenger door for me without hesitation. Even soaked, even furious, he was careful. Protecting me the way he did was effortless, instinctive, terrifying. I slid in, grip

I woke up warm.For a long, drowsy second, that was all I understood. Warm sheets. Warm air. Warm memory of a body pressed against mine. Something like breath on the back of my neck. A hand loosely resting over my waist. Legs tangled with mine. The kind of closeness that didn’t feel foreign or sharp. The kind that reached somewhere deep and said this is safe.I shifted slightly, expecting to feel him there. Expecting his weight, his heat, his arm.My hand brushed cold fabric.I opened my eyes.The space beside me was empty.The sheets were smooth, barely dented, like he had never been there at all. I sat up. The room looked too neat. The bed opposite mine was untouched. The curtains were open and sunlight spilled across the carpet in a sharp, bright line.His bag was gone.My heart stuttered.For a moment, I could feel the air in my lungs tighten and climb up my throat. Something cold crept into my stomach. I stood there barefoot on the carpet, staring at the space where he should hav