All Chapters of The Unwanted Wife's Return (Ex-Husband Wants Me Back): Chapter 461 - Chapter 470

MARY'S POV: ​"This is way too much," I said, staring at myself in the large fitting room mirror. ​"No, that's called being fashionable," Marl called back from the velvet couch outside. "Now put it on, please." ​My beautiful self and Marl were at an upscale designer boutique, and I was currently trying on my tenth outfit of the morning. The store was filled with soft, warm lighting which was also gleaming at the glass surfaces, the air smelling faintly of expensive perfume on different products. Racks of designer clothes stretched out in every direction, each piece looking more elegant and fragile than the last. The sales assistants had long since retreated to the background, sensing that Marl had completely taken over the operation and that this was a private affair. ​I really hadn't expected any of this to happen when I woke up. After Marl told me last night that he had a real solution to my daughter's problems, he made a few quick phone calls and said a close friend of his could

MARY'S POV: ​He stepped forward, took me gently by the shoulders, and guided me right in front of the large mirror so I had to look at myself properly. The reflection staring back at me was almost completely unrecognizable. Standing there was a woman wearing a stunning champagne satin dress, carrying a pearl handbag, with delicate gold strappy heels on her feet. The rich fabric caught the store light which was shimmering with every small move I made, and the pearls on the bag glowed softly against the cloth. I looked like someone who had just stepped straight out of a high-fashion magazine. ​I stared at my reflection, feeling slightly stunned. The woman in the glass looked young, polished, and powerful, a complete stranger to me. She looked like someone who belonged in a world of private cocktail parties and big big galas, not someone who had spent the last few years hiding quietly in the dark shadows of a failing marriage. The dress hugged my frame comfortably in all the right plac

MARY'S POV: ​I couldn't help but wonder if Alistair had ever really seen this version of me during our marriage. I wondered if he had ever bothered to look past the kitchen apron, the tired eyes, and my flour-covered hands to see the actual woman standing right in front of him. I wondered if he had ever truly known me at all, or if he just wanted a quiet maid to keep his house clean. ​I forced myself to push the thought out of my head. It didn't matter anymore. None of it did. What really mattered was that I was still breathing. I was still standing on my own two feet. I was still fighting for my daughter. ​Marl picked me up thirty minutes later in a ridiculously flashy sports car. ​The car was red. A bright, loud, completely obnoxious shade of red. It was the exact type of car that begged for attention, that made every single person turn their head at the traffic lights, and that made people stop dead in their tracks on the sidewalk just to stare. The red paint gleamed under the

MARY'S POV:​Then a huge smile broke out across her face, and she ran straight over, grabbing onto my hand with both of hers.​"Mommy, you look so pretty today!" she squealed out loud. "You're totally glowing!"​I dropped down onto one knee right there on the sidewalk, ignoring the dust on my new heels, and pulled her into a big hug. I breathed in her sweet, familiar smell, a mix of wax crayons, playground dust, and her fruit shampoo. "Thank you, my sweet girl. I missed you so much today."​As my daughter walked past a small group of her classmates who had gathered by the flagpole and were pointing at our car, she deliberately held her head up high and puffed out her chest like a little queen. She spoke extra loudly so every single one of them could hear her, giving them a smug little look over her shoulder.​"Mommy, can we please go get big ice cream sundaes today? Just the two of us?"​"Of course we can, baby."​Before she could even take another step, Marl reached down, scooped my

MARY'S POV:​Sometimes, I realized I made my daughter's small world way more complicated than it actually was. I kept forgetting how simple and pure young children really are. I forgot that a kind word, a silly surprise, or a single moment of real fun could mean a hundred times more to a kid than all the serious lectures in the world.​But at other times, I made things way too simple in the wrong direction. I was so fixated on raising her the proper way that I had accidentally stripped away her freedom to just be a wild, happy child. I had spent so much time teaching her to be careful, to be quiet, and to always think twice before she said anything out loud.​She was only six years old. She should be allowed to be loud and silly. She should be allowed to laugh until her stomach hurts, run as fast as her legs can carry her, and dream as big as she wants without worrying about the adult world.​I had never cared much about expensive clothes, fancy cars, or big money. I used to believe m