All Chapters of Rejected by my Husband: Chapter 201 - Chapter 210

JAMES POINT OF VIEWSo there I was.Sitting in the dining area.Alive. Clean-ish. Dignity permanently deceased.Mia handed me a bundle of clothes like she was doing charity work.“You can change into this,” she said softly. “It’s Matteo uncle's.”I looked down.Half pants.A T-shirt.Very dad-on-a-Sunday-morning vibes.Matteo appeared out of nowhere like a summoned NPC and said, very seriously, “Return it after washing. Carefully.”As if I was planning to frame it.“Yes, sir,” I nodded solemnly. I went to change.Five minutes later, I came back wearing the outfit.It was… loose.Not “comfortably oversized.”Not “fashionably baggy.”No.It was I borrowed my uncle’s clothes and now I look like a lost scarecrow loose.The half pants sat low.The T-shirt hung like it had given up on gravity.I caught Mia looking at me.She tried.She really tried.But then...She laughed.Not politely.Not silently.A real laugh. Light. Soft. Unfiltered.And damn it.It was… beautiful.Like the kind of l

THIRD PERSON POINT OF VIEWJames reached Karline’s house just as the evening settled into a quiet hush. The lights inside glowed warmly, the kind of glow that made a place feel lived in, safe.He adjusted the bags in his hands, straightened his posture, and knocked.For some reason, his brain automatically prepared for Karline Russo.Instead, the door opened to...Mia.“Oh,” James said, intelligently.Mia blinked. “Oh.”A very unhelpful silence followed.James felt heat rush to his face without permission. Traitorous cheeks. Absolute betrayal. He cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in the floor.“Uh...hi,” he said. “I’m looking for Miss Russo.”Mia smiled softly. “I’ll call her.”“Thank you,” James nodded, stepping inside. He stood awkwardly near the entrance, holding the gifts like fragile evidence.A moment later, Karline appeared.James straightened immediately. “Miss. Russo I wanted to ask if is everything okay? or not?” he asked, genuine concern slipping into his voice.

THIRD PERSON POINT OF VIEWIsabella’s hand moved slowly over Karline’s hair, the same soothing rhythm she had used since Karline was a child, when scraped knees felt like the end of the world and bedtime fears were monsters under the bed.“You’re so tired of carrying everything alone, cara,” Isabella murmured. “Now rest a little.”Karline lifted her head slightly, eyes glassy. “What do you mean?”“I mean,” Isabella said gently, “for four years you’ve been holding the malice, the anger, the injustice of everything that happened to you. You carried it quietly. You survived with it.” She paused. “But now Natalie is in jail. I know it won’t calm the burn completely… but at least it brings some relief.”Karline nodded slowly.It was true.Natalie’s arrest hadn’t erased the nights she cried silently. It hadn’t undone the loneliness, the fear, the humiliation. But it had brought something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years.Justice.Not perfect. Not complete. But real.And not just

THIRD PERSON POINT OF VIEW Karline stood near the wooden fence, arms loosely folded, watching Ethan run through the field with careless joy. His laughter carried easily in the open air, light and bright, as he chased nothing in particular, just the thrill of being alive.Then she heard it.The low, familiar hum of an engine.Her spine stiffened before her mind caught up. A jeep rolled slowly through the open gate, tires crunching against gravel. It wasn’t loud or aggressive. It entered carefully, almost respectfully.Reid stepped out with James.He wasn’t dressed like the man she used to know, the corporate figure wrapped in tailored suits and controlled expressions. Today he wore simple jeans and a white shirt, sleeves slightly rolled. The sun caught in his dark hair as he shut the jeep door gently behind him.For a moment, he didn’t move.He just stood there, taking in the farmhouse, the wide land, the simplicity of her world. It was a world he had once abandoned.Ethan stopped m

THIRD PERSON POINT OF VIEW Karline who was once looking at the scene. For a moment, she didn’t recognize the man she was looking at right now. Reid’s once-white shirt was no longer white. There were faint streaks of soil along the side, darker smudges near his elbow where he had clearly wiped sweat or leaned against something dusty. His jeans were creased, stained lightly at the knees. A thin line of dirt marked his forearm. He was holding a pair of metal tongs like someone who had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but was trying very hard not to show it. Matteo stood beside him, barking short instructions. “Not like that,” Matteo muttered, flipping a piece of meat with precision. “Turn it gently. You’ll dry it out.” Reid adjusted his grip without protest. “Like this?” he asked, carefully copying the motion. Matteo gave a curt nod. “Hmm.” That was approval, in Matteo language. Karline leaned slightly against the porch pillar, unnoticed. This… this version of him was