บททั้งหมดของ After The Divorce: Ex-husband's Regret: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

The house is quiet in that fragile, early-morning way. Pale light slips through the kitchen curtains, dust floating in it like something suspended and undecided.Ava stands at the stove, watching the bread turn gold.She flips it too early or too late. It doesn’t matter.Upstairs, the shower shuts off.Her chest tightens automatically.She smooths her hands over the counter and wipes away crumbs that aren’t there.By the time he comes downstairs, he’s already dressed. Navy suit, crisp and controlled. The kind of man who looks like he has somewhere important to be.He doesn’t look at her first. He looks at his watch.“Morning,” she says.Her voice sounds normal. She’s proud of that.“Morning.”She gestures toward the table. “Breakfast’s ready.”There are eggs, toast, the tea steeping just the way he likes it. Two sugars set beside the cup even though he only uses one now.He stops at the foot of the stairs and adjusts his cufflinks.“I’m not hungry.”She nods quickly. “It’s light, just

The television is too loud, or maybe the house is just too quiet around it.Sophie sits cross-legged on the rug, half-watching some cooking show, half-scrolling through her own thoughts. The laugh track rises and falls in the background, artificial and bright.Ava is curled into the corner of the couch, phone in her hand, thumb moving lazily across the screen. She isn’t really reading anything. Just scrolling. News. Emails. An ad she doesn’t register.Matthew left an hour ago.He’d stood in the hallway adjusting his watch, said, “I’ll call you later.”She’d nodded.Now the living room feels like it’s holding its breath.Sophie glances back at her. “You look like you’re doom-scrolling.”“I’m not.”“Yes, you are.”Ava doesn’t answer. Her thumb keeps moving.A tagged notification pops up. She almost ignores it.Then she sees his name. Her body reacts before her mind does.She sits up straight.The couch cushion exhales beneath her.Sophie turns immediately. “What?”Ava doesn’t speak.Her

Morning slipped into the kitchen on quiet feet.Ava stood at the stove, staring at the blue flame under the pan long after the butter had melted. The house felt too big and still again. Matthew had left before sunrise—she’d heard the shower, the closet door, the soft thud of his shoes on the stairs. No goodbye. Just the distant click of the front door closing.Sophie walked in, tying her robe tighter around her waist.“You’re not going to sit here all day, are you?” she asked.Ava didn’t look at her. “I’m not sitting.”“You’re hovering. That’s worse.”Silence stretched.Sophie moved closer, leaning her hip against the counter. “Take him lunch.”Ava blinked slowly. “What?”“Take him lunch.”Ava turned now. “Why?”“Because he’s your husband.”The words landed somewhere tender.Ava looked back at the stove. “He barely looks at me.”“That’s not what I said.”Sophie crossed her arms. “Use it as an opportunity. See the office. See how things are running.”Ava’s jaw tightened slightly. “I en

Matthew said nothing. But the surprise in his eyes lingered. It wasn’t outrage. It wasn’t anger. It was something quieter. Something unsettled. Like she’d shifted a piece on a board he hadn’t realized they were playing on. Ava didn’t mind. She let him look. Let him wonder. He lowered his gaze to the plate again and finished the rest of the food slowly. The scrape of his fork against porcelain filled the space between them. She watched his hands more than his face. The familiar shape of them. The veins along the back. The way his thumb always pressed lightly against the fork before lifting it. He used to eat like this at home. Comfortably and absentmindedly. Now every bite felt loaded. When he was done, he set the fork down carefully. “It was good,” he said, almost grudgingly. Ava stood without responding. She moved around the desk, collecting the plate. Her fingers brushed his knuckles for the briefest second. He didn’t pull away. She packed the container neatly. Wiped the

When Ava woke up, the other side of the bed was cold. Not untouched — the sheet was creased, the pillow slightly dented — but cold enough to tell her he had left hours ago. She stared at it for a moment, her mind still fogged with sleep. Matthew always moved quietly in the mornings. Even before everything between them became… fragile, he had never liked waking her. He would shower, dress, and leave with the kind of careful silence that felt almost considerate. She sat up slowly and checked the time. Past eight. He had been gone a while. For a second, she wondered if he had stayed late in the living room the night before. She had fallen asleep before him, she was sure of it. She tried to remember the sound of the bedroom door opening. The dip of the mattress. His scent brushes against her in the dark. She pushed the thought away and got out of bed. The bathroom mirror reflected a face that looked… steady. She studied herself as she brushed her teeth. As she washed her face. As