All Chapters of After the Divorce, My Ex Husband Came Crawling Back: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

DURRELLI suddenly realize I have absolutely no idea what to say. My throat suddenly feels dry. I blurt out the only thing that’s on my mind. "Helena Wright?"There’s silence, a brief pause, then: "Who is calling?"I tighten my grip on the phone. "Durrell Cox."Nothing, no response, and for a moment, I wonder if the call dropped.Then… "Durrell?" The voice sounds different now. It’s softer and sounds almost shocked."Yes."There’s another silence, a longer one this time.Then: "Helena's boy?"My pulse spikes. Every instinct tells me to be careful, to ask questions, to verify everything, instead I hear myself say: "Yes."A slow exhale reaches me through the speaker. Relief. The kind that comes after waiting too long. Far too long."I've been waiting a very long time for this call."I sit forward. "Who are you?"The woman is quiet for a moment, then: "My name is Beatrice Wright."The name means nothing to me. Not yet.Before I can ask another question, she speaks again. "When are you co

ARIANAThe alarm goes off at four-thirty in the morning, and for a moment, neither of us moves. The room is dark and quiet. The suitcase waits beside the door.Durrell reaches over and silences the alarm. Neither of us speaks, because once one of us does, the day officially begins. And neither of us seems eager for that.Eventually, Durrell sits up. I watch him rub a hand over his face. Then he stands. The simple act somehow makes everything feel real.He's leaving, not tomorrow, not later, it’s today.By five-thirty, the house is awake.Mrs. Patricia insists on making breakfast. The table is covered with eggs, toast, fresh fruit, and pastries she somehow found time to bake before sunrise.Durrell barely touches his food. I don't either. We both push things around our plates, pretending to eat.Mrs. Patricia watches us for a moment. Then she sets down her coffee cup with a deliberate clink."Breakfast is the first meal of the day," she says, her voice carrying that particular tone she

### 125: HelenaDURRELL‘Grandma.’The word nearly slips out. I stop myself. I feel it’s too soon with so many unanswered questions.Still... the feeling lingers.Beatrice eventually steps back. "Oh dear." She wipes her face again. "I've made a terrible first impression.""I've had worse." I say, trying to ease her discomfort.That earns another laugh. "Come inside before the neighbors start gossiping.""They gossip?" I tease her."My boy, this town survived two hundred years entirely on gossip."For the first time since landing in Donderdam, some of the tension leaves my shoulders.***The house smells like cinnamon, coffee, and something baking in the kitchen. The furniture is old but well cared for. The walls are covered in photographs.I stop walking, and my chest tightens.Helena. She's everywhere. A little girl holding a bicycle, a teenager standing beside the ocean, a graduation picture, and a family portrait. Dozens of moments frozen in time, of a whole life, a whole person.

ARIANAI don't stop reading, as my eyes trail the words of each line.‘Petition for custody modification. Expanded parenting time. Overnight visitation. Review of existing arrangements.’My pulse begins to pound. No… No, no, no. This isn't happening. I keep reading, and then I find the paragraph that makes my stomach turn.‘The filing argues that Maxwell entered the divorce proceedings without knowledge that I was pregnant. That he was deprived of the opportunity to prepare for fatherhood. That material information affecting future parental rights was unavailable at the time of dissolution.’My vision blurs for a second, not because the words are complicated, but because I know exactly what he’s doing. He’s not attacking me emotionally, he’s attacking me legally. He’s using facts, technicalities, and the truth.And the worst part? Part of it is true.I didn't tell him about the pregnancy. My father was dying, and Maxwell was already in bed with my sister. But reasons don't matter in

DURRELLThe photograph of Victor and Helena, standing close enough to know each other, doesn't leave my mind. Beatrice confirmed it without realizing she'd confirmed it. Victor knew my mother better than he ever admitted.Beatrice sets another cup of tea in front of me, and neither of us speaks for a while.Finally I ask the question that's been sitting inside my chest since yesterday. "What happened to her?"Beatrice doesn't answer immediately. She folds her hands together. "I can tell you how it began."I wait."But I can't tell you how it ended."My eyebrows draw together. "Why?""Because that isn't my story to tell." She looks toward Helena's old bedroom. "I only know pieces after she left Donderdam."I nod. "I'll take the pieces."She smiles sadly. "That sounds like your father."I exhale, and lean back in my chair.She inhales slowly. "It started with the Kravens..."She barely gets another word out before three firm knocks echo through the house.Beatrice sighs. "Oh dear." She