บททั้งหมดของ Dumped ,Because His Her Is Back : บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

The first thing I noticed was the quiet.Not the kind that hums softly in the background, but the heavy kind the kind that settles into your bones and refuses to leave. My apartment felt too still, too neat, like I had walked into a stranger’s life. Maybe I had. Maybe that’s what happens when everything you’ve built suddenly doesn’t belong to you anymore.I stood in the middle of the living room, looking around at things that used to mean something. The framed photo on the wall. The candle I never lit because he said the scent was too strong. The throw blanket he always used to pull over my shoulders when I fell asleep on the couch. They were all still here, mocking me with their normality.For a long time, I did nothing. Just stood there, hands hanging by my sides, breathing through the ache that kept threatening to spill over.When I finally moved, it was toward the kitchen. I poured myself coffee black, bitter, strong. He used to add cream and sugar for me, said I didn’t have to

The airport was colder than she remembered. Or maybe she’d just forgotten what cold really felt like that sharp, clean bite that comes when you’re stepping back into a place that no longer belongs to you.Elena stood by the arrival gate, a designer suitcase by her leg, sunglasses hiding the exhaustion she didn’t want anyone to see. Three years was a long time. Long enough for the city to move on without her, long enough for people to stop whispering her name with the same curiosity they once did.But not long enough for him to forget.Or at least, that’s what she told herself as she hailed a cab.The ride was silent except for the soft hum of traffic and the occasional flicker of memory that wouldn’t stay buried. The night before she left his voice, steady but breaking. The promises she’d made that she knew she couldn’t keep. And the one thing she never thought she’d regret: walking away before he had the chance to.When she’d left, she told herself it was freedom. Now, returning fel

He didn’t remember leaving the café.Just the sound of rain and the faint clink of porcelain as the barista cleared two untouched cups.Something about that image two cups, side by side had rooted itself deep in him.It followed him out the door, into his car, into the silence that had become too familiar.He sat there for a while, engine off, watching the droplets crawl down the windshield like the world was crying slow tears. He wanted to go home, but the word home didn’t mean what it used to. Not without her there.Amara.Even the thought of her name was heavy now. Not sharp, not burning just heavy. Like a stone lodged somewhere behind his ribs.He thought he’d made peace with her absence. He’d told himself she was better off without him, that signing those papers was mercy, not cruelty. But lately, mercy had started to taste like regret.He ran a hand over his face and sighed. The café’s smell still clung to his jacket coffee and rain and something floral that wasn’t his.Maybe

Morning came quietly. No alarms, no rush just the light pressing softly through the blinds, warming the side of her face. Amara blinked against it, half-expecting to hear the creak of his footsteps in the hallway, the clink of a mug being set down beside her. But the apartment was still. The kind of stillness that used to ache but now only hummed.She rolled over, eyes tracing the faint crack on the ceiling she’d been meaning to fix for months. There was a time she’d planned everything around someone else’s needs his moods, his silences, his return. Now she planned around quiet. Around her own pulse. Around the smell of coffee brewing for one.Her phone buzzed once, then went silent again. Messages she didn’t rush to read. She had learned the luxury of delay that not everything demanded an immediate answer, that not every door had to be opened just because someone knocked.She sat up, stretching slowly. The rain from last night had washed the city clean, and from her window, the stre

The rain hadn’t stopped.It fell in the same rhythm it always did patient, steady, a sound she’d once found comforting. Tonight, it just felt like company.Amara sat by the window, legs tucked beneath her, the small lamp casting an amber glow across the room. Her tea had gone cold hours ago, but she hadn’t moved to change it. The cup sat beside her notebook, steam long gone, a quiet witness to her thoughts.She’d seen him.Not clearly. Not enough to be sure. Just a shape by the edge of the street, standing there in the rain like a memory that refused to fade. She hadn’t turned fully didn’t want to. Some ghosts are easier to live with when you don’t give them faces again.But her heart had known. The body remembers what the mind pretends to forget.Liam.His name felt different now not sharp like before, but distant, worn down by time and truth. It didn’t sting; it just… echoed.She picked up her pen again, flipping to a fresh page in her notebook. The rain traced small rivers down t