All Chapters of After The Divorce: He Wanted Me Back: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Isabella The morning began quietly.Too quietly.Sunlight crept in through the curtains, pale and unhurried, settling gently across the room. I woke with that familiar awareness before anything else—my body, the steady rhythm of my breath, the subtle reminder that I was no longer living just for myself.I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the city wake up outside. Cars passed. Voices echoed faintly below. Life continued, as it always did.I had just swung my legs over the side of the bed when my phone rang.Unknown number.I frowned.Normally, I let those go to voicemail. But something about the timing—the early hour, the insistence of the ringing—made me pause. I stared at the screen for a second longer before answering.“Hello?”There was a brief silence on the other end. Then—“Isabella?”The voice was calm. Composed. Familiar in a way that made my stomach tighten.“Yes,” I replied carefully. “This is she.”“This is Margaret Thorne.”I froze.Gabriel’s m

Isabella I thought we were done.The trunk was already full of carefully packed shopping bags, all soft pastels and delicate fabrics meant for someone who wouldn’t arrive for months. I was mentally calculating how long it would take Lena to reorganize the closet when Gabriel slowed the car and pulled into another parking space.This boutique looked… different.Clean glass windows. Neutral tones. Mannequins dressed in flowing silhouettes, soft knits, and relaxed tailoring.None of them were baby-sized.“Gabriel,” I said slowly, eyeing the storefront. “Why are we stopping here?”He turned off the engine. “We need to go in.”We.“Need?” I repeated.“Yes.”I frowned. “That’s not a baby store.”“I know.”I stared at him. “Then why are we here?”He opened his door like the conversation was already settled. “Come on.”I stayed seated.“Gab.”He paused, then leaned slightly toward me. “You’re going to need clothes.”“I have clothes.”“You have clothes that fit now,” he replied calmly. “Not c

Isabella The house felt different the next day.Not quiet—just… expectant.I stood in front of the mirror longer than usual, smoothing my hands over the fabric of the dress I’d chosen. It wasn’t extravagant. Soft, flowing, designed to move with me rather than against me. The color was muted, elegant—something that felt appropriate for dinner with Margaret without pretending this was anything more than it was.My hair fell loosely over my shoulders, styled just enough to feel intentional. Comfortable shoes. Minimal jewelry. Nothing heavy. Nothing restrictive.I wanted to look like myself.Not the woman I used to be when I wore the Thorne name.Not someone trying to prove anything.Just… me. As I was now.I reached for my bag when my phone rang.Gabriel.I hesitated for a second before answering. “Hello?”“I was just about to leave,” he said. “I’ll pick you up.”“I’m driving myself,” I replied.A pause. “Isa—”“I’m stopping by the vineyard first,” I added calmly. “I’ll meet you there a

Isabella Dinner had ended, the last bites of dessert savored and cleared from the table, yet Emily still hadn’t stopped with her little displays. Every so often she’d glance at Gabriel, her smile just a fraction too bright, her laughter just a shade too exaggerated, as if the entire room existed solely for her to impress him.I felt my chest tighten—not anger, just the familiar mix of irritation and disbelief. Pregnant, calm, and now trapped with Emily’s theatrics.She leaned slightly forward, lowering her voice so only Gabriel and I could hear. “Oh, by the way,” she said, feigning casualness, “Gabriel left this at the office the other day. I almost forgot to bring it.”From her bag, she produced a small, sleek item—something obviously expensive. She handed it to Gabriel with a deliberate tilt of her head, lingering on his reaction. “You must have forgotten it, you’re always so busy,” she said lightly, her tone dripping with subtle emphasis, like she was pointing out, ever so gently,

Isabella The warmth of Margaret’s words lingered in the air, heavy and comforting all at once. I felt them settle deep in my chest—her honesty, her quiet concern, her unwavering support. For a moment, I simply sat there, absorbing everything she had said. I shifted slightly on the sofa, suddenly aware of a familiar pressure. I let out a small, breathy laugh. “Margaret… excuse me,” I said gently. “I think I need to use the bathroom.” She smiled immediately, understanding in her eyes. “Of course,” she said warmly. “Go ahead. Take your time.” I stood up slowly, instinctively placing a hand on my stomach as I did. “Thank you,” I added, my voice softer now—grateful, sincere. Margaret gave a small nod. “We’ll talk again later.” I returned the smile before turning away, my steps quiet as I made my way down the hall. The conversation replayed in my mind with every step—Emily, Gabriel, the baby, the things Margaret had revealed so casually yet so carefully. As I reached the bathroom do