บททั้งหมดของ After The Divorce: Ex-husband's Regret: บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

The knife moved in steady, practiced strokes against the chopping board.Ava’s wrist turned slightly, guiding the blade with quiet control, the soft rhythm of it grounding in a way nothing else had managed all morning.The kitchen smelled faintly of garlic and something simmering on low heat. A thin curl of steam rose from the pot, catching the light from the window.For a moment, everything felt contained.Then the doorbell rang. Ava’s hand stilled mid-slice.The sound cut clean through the quiet.She lifted her head slightly, listening.Another ring.Her fingers tightened around the knife before she set it down carefully. She reached for the towel hanging by the sink, wiping her hands slowly, as if buying herself a few extra seconds.“I’m coming,” she called. Her voice carried easily through the house.She walked toward the door, her steps measured, the soft echo of them trailing behind her down the hallway.Something in her chest shifted faintly.Her hand rested briefly on the hand

The door clicked shut behind them, soft but final. Ava didn’t move further into the room immediately. She stood there for a second, her fingers still curled around the handle of his bag, listening to the quiet settle around them—the faint hum of the air conditioner, the distant clatter from the kitchen downstairs, the echo of everything unsaid trailing them up the stairs. Matthew exhaled, long and low, already reaching for the buttons of his shirt. “I missed this place,” he muttered, though his tone carried more habit than truth. Fabric slipped from his shoulders, landing somewhere behind him without care. He didn’t look at her at first. Just kept moving—watch, cufflinks, the small, practiced motions of someone trying to step out of one version of himself and into another. Ava crossed the room slowly and sat on the edge of the bed. She didn’t lean back and didn’t relax. She just watched him. There was something almost indulgent in it—the way her gaze followed his hands, the lin

The cab eased to a stop in front of the café.Ava didn’t move immediately. Her hand remained on the door handle, fingers curled around it, as if stepping out meant crossing into something she couldn’t undo.A second passed, then another. She pushed the door open.The café was quiet enough for decisions.Inside, the air carried the quiet hum of low conversations and clinking cups. It felt… normal. Too normal for the weight sitting in her chest.Her eyes found him quickly.Mr. Carter sat in the corner, a file closed in front of him, his posture composed, like a man who had already arranged the conversation before she arrived.Ava sat across from Mr. Carter, her fingers resting on the edge of the table, still and controlled. The file lay between them like something alive.“I don’t have time to process,” she said. “I need steps.”Mr. Carter nodded once, like he had been waiting for that exact sentence.“Good,” he said. “Then listen carefully.”Ava leaned in slightly.“You are the majority

The television flickered softly against the dim walls, voices rising and falling in a rhythm that should have been easy to follow.Ava sat curled into the corner of the couch, one leg tucked beneath her, fingers resting lightly against the armrest. The remote lay untouched beside her. On the screen, someone laughed. It sounded distant. Like it belonged to another room.Her gaze stayed fixed forward, but nothing settled.She blinked once.Slowly, the same thoughts pressed in again, quiet but relentless.Her throat tightened. She swallowed, adjusting her posture as though the movement might ease the pressure building beneath her ribs.Why? The question hovered, shapeless, refusing to land anywhere solid.Her hands folded loosely in her lap. Fingertips pressing together, then releasing.Was she lacking something? Had there been a moment she missed—some small fracture that had widened into this?Her lips parted slightly, a breath catching halfway before she let it go.The silence inside h

By evening, the house had settled into a quiet that wasn’t quite peaceful. The living room lights were on, warm against the slow fade of daylight beyond the windows. A soft hum from the television filled the space, though no one seemed particularly interested in what was playing. Ava sat on one end of the couch, her legs crossed neatly, a throw pillow resting against her side. One hand idly traced the seam along its edge, over and over, as though her fingers needed something to anchor to. Across from her, Mrs. Taylor sat upright, composed, her back straight against the chair. She hadn’t spoken in several minutes, but her presence alone filled the room in a way that made silence feel deliberate. Matthew occupied the other end of the couch. His phone rested in his palm, screen dark, but he hadn’t put it down since he came back inside. His thumb hovered over it occasionally, as if expecting it to light up again. Ava’s gaze drifted toward him once, then away again, her attention ret