All Chapters of My Ex Husband's Biggest Regret : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Chapter 91: SaturdayRoman stood by the table. He had come early on purpose. There was no phone in his hand. He just waited, eyes fixed on the door. His chest felt tight in a way he had not felt in years. This dinner was theirs alone. No Aldric. No company. Just them.The door opened. Sera walked in. She saw him right away. He stood there, tall and still.She looked at him. He looked at her. Three seconds passed in silence. Her heart pounded hard. Something twisted in her chest."You look." Roman said. The words stuck. He stopped himself. She waited, hands at her sides. He took a breath and chose different ones. "I'm glad you came.""So am I," Sera said. Her voice came out quiet but real. A small warmth moved through her even as her nerves jumped.They sat across from each other. The table was small, made for just this. The waiter poured red wine into their glasses. They hardly noticed him. This was their time.Roman picked up his glass but did not drink yet. "We should talk. Really t

Sera stepped into the estate. The door closed softly behind her. Rosa had left a light on in the hall. Sera turned off the extra ones but left one burning. The single glow felt right in the quiet. She walked to the living room and sat on the couch. She did not reach for a book. She did not open her laptop. She did not check her phone. She just sat. The evening played in her head. Roman standing by the table. The three seconds they looked at each other. The wine on her tongue. The way he had spoken every hard truth across the small table. She sat with all of it. The good parts. The sharp parts. The way his eyes had stayed on hers the whole time. She thought about what he said. The specific things. The text she had sent that night he never answered. The Thursday dinners he had cancelled one by one until they stopped existing. The laugh at Varro’s that had come easier with her friends than it ever did with him. He had named every single piece without excuse. No smooth words. No blame.

Louisa sat down next to Roman at the charity luncheon. She had chosen the seat on purpose. The chair scraped lightly on the floor as she pulled it in. She set her small purse on the table and turned to face him straight on. The white tablecloth brushed her lap. A half-empty glass of water sat between them.Roman glanced over. He did not know who she was for thirty seconds. He saw an older woman with steady eyes and a calm face. Her posture was straight. Her hands rested in her lap. Then it clicked. Sera’s aunt. The one who had been there through everything. The one who loved Sera like a daughter.“I’m Louisa,” she said. “Sera’s aunt. I’m going to ask you questions and I’d like honest answers.”“All right,” Roman said. His voice stayed even. He put his fork down. The plate in front of him had gone cold. He did not care. His stomach tightened a little, but he kept his face still.“Why did it take you this long?” Louisa asked. She did not look away.Roman did not deflect. He answered hon

He saw the listing on a Tuesday morning. It came through in a newsletter he had subscribed to years ago and mostly ignored. He was going through email before his nine o'clock when it appeared: a Verdi program next month, the same opera house, the same company. Before the marriage. Before any of it. When they had been two people still learning what the other one was. He remembered it specifically. She had been wearing something green. Not formal green, event green, but the particular green of someone who had bought something because she liked it. He had noticed this without turning his head. He had also noticed that she was not watching the stage. She was watching the conductor. He had been twenty-nine and had not known what to do with that. He knew what it meant now. He picked up his phone and typed before he could construct reasons to wait for a better moment because he had learned that better moments did not improve what was being said, only delayed it. *There's a Verdi perfo

He was there when she arrived.Standing in the lobby, not near the bar, not on his phone. Just standing in the way she had come to recognize as him being where he was without performing it. He saw her come through the door, and he did not move toward her immediately. He waited for her to cross the lobby, which she did at her own pace.She looked at him.He looked at her.He said nothing about how she looked. She had been watching for this, the automatic compliment, the social reflex that would have arrived without thought from the man she had been married to. He did not say it."Thank you for coming," he said."Thank you for asking," she said.They went in.…The house was full in the way opera houses were full, the specific warmth of a large space occupied by people in collective anticipation. Sera had always loved this part. The before. The waiting that belonged to everyone.Their seats were different from the ones they had occupied the first time. She noticed this without remarking