All Chapters of Falling For His Forsaken Wife: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

I woke alone in my bed, sunlight streaming through the windows, and for a moment I forgot. Then everything came rushing back. The kiss. Alex's confession. My response.I had kissed my ex-husband. The man I had run from. The man who had spent three years making me feel invisible.The man I might still be in love with.I grabbed my phone. No messages from Miguel, which was both a relief and a pain. One text from Alex, sent two hours ago.*Good morning. I am at my downtown office for meetings. Did not want you to wake up and think I disappeared. We can talk tonight. No pressure. Take your time processing everything.*The thoughtfulness of the message made my chest ache. This version of Alex, considerate and patient and careful with my feelings, was so different from the man I had married that it felt like falling for a stranger.Except he was not a stranger. He was Alex. Just Alex as he could have been all along if Vanessa had not been manipulating him. If he had been seeing me clearly.

Three weeks passed in a blur of preparation and anticipation. The exhibition was now two weeks away, and my life had become a carefully orchestrated chaos of press interviews, gallery meetings, and final preparations.I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to decide if the navy dress was professional enough for my interview with *Art Forum* magazine. My phone buzzed on the counter. A text from Miguel.*Can we meet? Coffee tomorrow morning? I think we need to talk before the exhibition.*My stomach clenched. I had been expecting this. Dreading this. Miguel and I had barely communicated over the past three weeks beyond occasional polite texts. He deserved more than that. He deserved honesty.*Tomorrow at 10. The café near your apartment?**Perfect. See you then.*I set down my phone and finished getting ready. Alex was waiting in the living room, dressed in a suit for his own meetings downtown. We had fallen into an easy routine over the past weeks. Breakfast together. Working

The gallery was transformed. Soft lighting made my paintings glow against white walls. Servers moved through the crowd with champagne and hors d'oeuvres. A string quartet played in the corner, their music weaving through the hum of conversation. It was elegant and overwhelming and nothing like I had imagined.James appeared immediately, his face flushed with excitement. "Emily, there you are. We already have three confirmed sales. Three. Before you even walked in the door." He pulled me aside. "The woman in the red dress by the mirror painting? That is Catherine Zhou. She runs the Zhou Foundation. One of the most important contemporary art collectors in the world. She wants to meet you.""Right now?""After your speech. I am doing opening remarks in fifteen minutes, then you say a few words about the work. Keep it under five minutes. Genuine, emotional, not too rehearsed." James squeezed my shoulder. "You are going to be wonderful. Just breathe."Sarah appeared with a glass of champag

Six months later, I stood in my new studio in Tribeca, sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows, staring at a half-finished canvas. The space was mine. Rented with money I had earned from my own work. Not Alex's penthouse. Not a borrowed room. Mine.The painting was different from anything I had created before. Brighter. More hopeful. A figure emerging from water, arms raised toward sky, face turned upward. No shadows chasing her. No mirrors confusing her. Just emergence. Just becoming.My phone buzzed. A text from James.*MoMA confirmed. They want the mirror painting for their permanent collection. This is huge, Em. Call me.*I set down my brush and dialed. James answered immediately."The Museum of Modern Art wants your work in their permanent collection," he said without preamble. "Do you understand what this means? Your painting will hang alongside Picasso, Kahlo, Warhol. You will be part of art history.""How much are they offering?" I asked, trying to keep my voice st

Two weeks after the Victoria Hartley situation resolved, I received an unexpected phone call from Miguel."Hey Em, it is me." His voice sounded strained. "Do you have time to talk? Not about anything bad. Just... I need some advice.""Of course. What is going on?""Can we meet? In person? I do not want to do this over the phone." He paused. "Claire does not know I am calling you. I probably should not be calling you. But I do not know who else to talk to."My stomach tightened. "Miguel, if this is about you still having feelings—""It is not. I promise. It is about the wedding. About me freaking out. About realizing I might be making a mistake." His voice cracked. "Please, Em. I just need someone who knows me. Who will be honest with me."I looked at Alex, who was working at the dining table. He met my eyes, clearly having heard Miguel's voice through the phone."Okay. When and where?""Tomorrow morning? That coffee shop near your studio? Nine AM?"After I hung up, Alex set down his p