บททั้งหมดของ THE EX-WIFE MAKES A COMEBACK : บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

(Lena's POV)I woke up this morning feeling like death itself.My period had started overnight. Two days early, because my body loved chaos, and the cramps were already saying hello. I forced myself out of bed and into the shower, then spent several minutes staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.A massive pimple had appeared on my left cheek. Looking bright red and angry. The kind that showed up specifically to ruin your week."Perfect," I muttered. “Just perfect.”I found pimple patches in the drawer and stuck one on. Then I got dressed, forced cereals down my throat, took two painkillers, and headed to the office trying to convince myself that looking like a teenager with a patch on my face didn't look so bad. I hope I don't get spotted by the paparazzi, though.The cramps got worse in transit. By the time I walked into BioGen I was seriously considering just working from the bathroom floor for the rest of the day.But Elena knocked on my office door around nine-thirty and

(Lena's POV)I almost didn't go.I stood in my flat that morning staring at the address Adrian had texted me the night before and seriously considered calling the whole thing off. Making up some excuse about work or a lab emergency or anything that would let me avoid whatever this was going to be.The problem was I'd spent the entire night lying awake thinking about it.The miscarriage had happened over eight years ago. Early first trimester. I'd been twenty-six and married to Julian for two years and we'd been trying for about six months when it finally happened.I remembered the joy and the terror. Then I remembered the cramping that started on a Tuesday morning. The bleeding that wouldn't stop. The emergency room visit where a doctor told me there was a heartbeat and these things happen sometimes and there was nothing anyone could have done.I'd believed her.For seven years I'd believed that it was just one of those things. Random chance, bad luck. My body failing at something it

(Lena's POV)I changed my outfit five times before leaving my flat.First the burgundy dress that I tagged too formal. Then jeans and a sweater, and I called that too casual. Finally I settled on black trousers and a silk blouse that looked professional enough to pretend this was just a business dinner if anyone asked.Not that anyone would ask. But I was creating excuses in my head because that's what I did when I was nervous.And I was nervous.I checked my phone for the fourth time. Adrian had sent the restaurant address two days ago. Somewhere in Clerkenwell I'd never heard of. I'd looked it up—a small Italian place with good reviews. He was not trying to impress. Just good food in a quiet space.I left ten minutes early and still arrived five minutes late because I'd walked past the restaurant twice before going in.The host recognized my name immediately and led me to a table near the back. Adrian was already there, standing when he saw me approaching."Lena.""Adrian."We sat d

(Lena's POV)(Three months…)I almost dropped the wine glass.We were at Adrian's apartment again. The third time that week, and I'd been reaching for my glass on the coffee table when my hand shook slightly and missed it. He caught it before it tipped completely."Thanks," I said."Good reflexes," he said, setting it safely on a table mat.We'd been doing this for three months now. Dinners, museums, dates. His apartment where he cooked things that were better than they had any right to be. Long conversations that felt easy in a way I still wasn't entirely comfortable with.Tonight we'd started talking about his work and somehow ended up on the topic of control. How he'd spent most of his professional life managing outcomes. How that had affected his personal life in ways he was only now starting to realize."I still do it sometimes," he said. "Catch myself trying to create situations instead of just letting them happen.""Like what?""Like—" He stopped "Like when you mentioned wantin

(LENA'S POV)"You're not seriously going."Elena over the phone while I was getting dressed in my hotel room. I'd flown to New York the night before without telling anyone except my assistant who booked the flight."I'm going," I said."Your lawyer explicitly advised against it. I'm advising against it too.”"Noted. Okay""Can you quit being stubborn and just listen to me?""I'm not going for him. I'm going for me."She was quiet for a moment. "What are you wearing?""Burgundy jacket. Black trousers. No fascinator.""No fascinator?""No fascinator."Another pause. "You're showing your face.""Yes.""Intentionally.""Yes.""Why now?"I looked at myself in the mirror. PlI was still on my platinum blonde hair styled simply. Green contacts with makeup minimal. The burgundy jacket I'd worn to countless public events but never without the fascinator to partially obscure my face."Because if I'm going to be in that room I'm going to be fully in it."Elena exhaled. "Call me after.""I will."