All Chapters of Chasing His Divorced Wife: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

ELARA'S POVSunday he cooked properly.Not assembled. Actually cooked, with intention, the kind of Sunday meal that required most of the morning to build.I woke to the smell of it at eight and came to the kitchen and found him at the stove in the old t-shirt with a pan he was clearly taking seriously."What is this," I said."Braised short rib.""For breakfast.""For lunch. It needs four hours." He didn't look up. "Go back to the desk.""I wasn't going to the desk.""You were going to the desk."I looked at the coffee he'd already made and left at my side of the counter."You made my coffee," I said."Forty minutes ago. It's probably lukewarm."I tasted it."It's fine," I said."Microwave it.""I don't like microwaved coffee.""Then drink lukewarm coffee."I sat at the counter with the lukewarm coffee and watched him work.He cooked the way he did most things. Without excess movement. Every action connected to the next."When did you learn this," I said."Short rib specifically? Last

ELARA'S POVWednesday I wrote for four hours straight.The forgotten room and its letters. The woman reading someone else's handwriting in a house that had held them both decades apart. I wrote until the chapter finished itself and sat back and looked at what I had.Eighteen pages.The longest single session since I'd started the book.I came to the kitchen and Damien was at the counter on his laptop. He looked up."Done for the day?" he said."Done with chapter four." I opened the fridge. "Eighteen pages.""In one session.""The room opened up." I found the leftover short rib and put it on the counter. "The letters in the room. I wrote three of them in full.""In the voice of the previous person.""A man. Fifties. He loved the house the way you love something you know you're losing." I paused. "I didn't know he was a man until I was four sentences in.""The character told you.""They always do if you wait." I heated the food. "His name is Thomas.""You named him.""He named himself.

ELARA'S POVSunday the starter smelled wrong.I checked it at eight and looked at it for a long moment and then called Damien from the kitchen."Come look at this," I said.He appeared in the doorway."It smells," I said.He came and looked at the jar."That's normal," he said."It smells like something failed.""It's supposed to smell like that at forty-eight hours. It's fermenting." He looked at the jar. "The first time I thought the same thing and threw it out."I looked at him."That's why yours died," I said."Probably.""You threw it out too early.""I thought it had gone wrong.""Damien." I looked at the jar. "You have to let things go through the ugly phase.""I know that now.""Do you know about other things or just bread?"He looked at me."Is this a metaphor," he said."I'm asking about bread.""It doesn't sound like bread."I put the lid back on the jar."Both," I said. "The answer is both."He stood beside me looking at the jar."I've learned to let things go through the

ELARA'S POVSaturday she suggested the waterfront. Not the long walk. Just the bench by the water where they'd sat in October, the one on the Seattle list.He agreed without asking why and they went out into the April morning that had turned genuinely warm for the first time, the kind of warm that felt like a statement rather than an accident.She sat and looked at the Sound.He sat beside her."Victoria," he said."I already sent the letter.""I know. James forwarded it this morning." He paused. "June.""I suggested June. She can counter." She looked at the water. "I meant what I said. My terms, my timeline.""I know you did.""Does it feel strange to you.""Which part.""That I'm moving faster with her than you expected."He was quiet for a moment."Yes," he said. "Honestly yes.""Tell me why.""Because she hurt you specifically and deliberately over three years and you're extending something she hasn't fully earned.""I know she hasn't earned it.""Then why."She looked at the wate

ELARA'S POVDaniel Reeves lived in Capitol Hill. A brownstone, third floor, the kind of building that had been a single family home once and been divided without losing its bones.He opened the door before we knocked. He'd heard us on the stairs.Fifties, dark-haired going grey, the kind of face that had laugh lines and thought lines in equal measure. He looked at Damien first and then at me and his expression did something immediate and genuine."Elara," he said."Daniel."He shook my hand and held it a moment longer than a standard shake."I've been looking forward to this," he said."So have I."He stepped back and let us in.The apartment smelled like the lamb Damien had promised.The table was set for three in a room that had books on every wall and one good lamp and no overhead lighting.I looked at the books."You've read all of these," I said."Most." He took our coats. "Some are aspirational.""Which ones."He pointed to the top shelf."The Proust," he said. "Every year I say