Lahat ng Kabanata ng After The Divorce: He Wanted Me Back: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

IsabellaI used to believe silence meant peace. That gentle quiet that tucked you in at night, soft as a blanket, where even the ticking clock felt like a lullaby.But in this house—glass walls, marble floors, ceilings so high they swallowed sound—silence didn’t soothe. It suffocated.My fork scraped against porcelain, sharp in the cavernous dining room. Across from me, a plate of untouched food cooled, just like it had the past three nights. Gabriel wasn’t coming home. Again.I shouldn’t have been surprised. After five years of marriage, I’d learned billion-dollar deals and boardroom wars were the only things that held his attention. Not anniversaries. Not birthdays. Not me.I lifted my glass of wine—Chardonnay, not the expensive red he preferred. Why waste it on dinners I always ate alone? The bitterness lingered on my tongue, heavier than the alcohol.“Mrs. Thorne?”I looked up. Ana, one of the staff, hovered in the doorway, hands knotted in front of her, eyes flicking nervously be

IsabellaThe first week after moving out, I thought I’d drown in silence.But the condo was different from the mansion. The quiet here didn’t press down on me like a suffocating weight—it was lighter, freer. It was mine.I could leave the TV on all night if I wanted, the static hum filling the background. I could sing off-key in the shower without worrying about staff overhearing. I could burn toast at two in the morning and laugh about it without James, the butler, appearing with that disapproving tilt of his head.The condo wasn’t big—just two bedrooms, a living room that opened to a small balcony, a kitchen with countertops worn from use. The building wasn’t new, but I liked that. The creaks in the pipes, the hum of neighbors through the walls—it made me feel less alone.Still, freedom had its price.Some nights the silence turned sharp, like glass cutting through me. I would crawl into bed, stare at the ceiling, and find myself listening for sounds that weren’t there. Gabriel’s fo

Isabella The gravel crunched under the sleek tires of Gabriel’s car before I even had a chance to brace myself. I stood near the edge of the balcony, arms crossed over my stomach, the faint curve of my growing bump pressing against my blouse. Three months. Four, maybe. Enough for him to notice if he looked closely—but he didn’t.He stepped out of the car, impeccably dressed as always. Navy suit, crisp white shirt, polished shoes. Not a hair out of place. Not a hint of apology in the way he carried himself. Not a flicker of recognition for what he’d done—or undone.Gabriel Thorne walked with the same measured steps I remembered from boardrooms, courtrooms, and every important room we’d ever shared. Commanding, controlled, untouchable. And he had come here, to my vineyard, for business. Nothing else.I lowered my gaze briefly to my stomach, then lifted my chin. If he noticed, he didn’t acknowledge it. I had expected no less.“Ms. Reyes,” he said, voice clipped, precise. No warmth, no h

Isabella The moment I stepped into the hospital lobby, the stark white lights felt like needles stabbing into my eyes. Everything was too bright, too cold, too loud. My heartbeat thudded heavily in my ears as I gripped Gabriel’s arm for balance—only because I had no choice, not because I wanted to.The nurse rushed toward us the second she noticed my posture, my breathing, my hand clutching my stomach.“Ma’am, are you in pain? How far along are you?”“Three months,” I managed, my voice thin.“Four,” Gabriel corrected immediately, standing behind me like a wall of ice.I shot him a glare. “Three.”His jaw tightened. “You told me something else.”“You’re not entitled to know anything,” I snapped back.The nurse blinked awkwardly between us, clearly unsure if she should intervene or call security.“Let’s get you into an exam room,” she said quickly. “We’ll check everything.”I nodded, breath trembling as another wave of discomfort pulsed beneath my ribs. She guided me into a wheelchair

IsabellaThe car hummed along the dark streets, tires crunching over uneven pavement. Outside, the city lights flickered weakly against the night sky, painting shadows across my face. I rested my hand over my stomach, feeling the faint, steady rhythm of the life inside me, the tiny pulse that reminded me I wasn’t alone. Not entirely.Yet, for all the life within me, the world around me felt suffocating. Gabriel sat opposite, silent, hands folded neatly in his lap, eyes forward, posture immaculate, unreadable. He hadn’t spoken in over ten minutes, and the quiet was not comforting. It was loaded, expectant, like a taut wire straining against the weight of unspoken words.I wanted to hate him. I had every reason to. He had been absent for years, indifferent, cold, even after we married. He had signed the divorce papers like it was a mere formality, like I had never mattered beyond a name on a contract. He had never checked on me, never cared if I slept, if I ate, if I existed beyond the