Novel & Cerita After Divorce My Ex Pines For Me

Her presence was comforting, and I was deeply grateful for the unwavering support she rendered to both me and my daughter. Sadly, Amore was still unconscious and I could only place my hope in God. I won't dare to think what would happen if I lost her. Zeke, on the other hand, was a different story. I had sent the divorce papers to him. It had been a few days now. No response. No call. Not even a text. Typical. If I knew Zeke well enough—and I did—he probably thought I was throwing one of my “emotional tantrums” and playing games to get his attention.

Synopsis Katherine McQueen's world shattered when her father borrowed from Massimo Hollingsworth, a ruthless New York billionaire who commands the fearsome Hollingsworth dynasty. When Massimo arrived to collect his due, a tragic accident left him in a coma. Desperate and cornered, Katherine was forced into a marriage she never wanted. His powerful relatives plotted his death, certain he wouldn’t survive, eager to erase her as well by throwing her out once she becomes a widow. But Massimo did survive. When he awakened, the ice in his gaze was nothing compared to the fury in his heart. He recognized Katherine as the daughter of the man who orchestrated his accident. Hatred

I have been pretentious enough for years and I am tired of it. Patricia sighed. "Okay as you say so, but, just keep in mind that you have Thirdy, now. Helga, you are not alone anymore. He's doing his part unconsciously, at least do yours." With that, Patricia left the room. I took a deep breath as my eyes move back to my reflection. I rearrange the hairbrush and lipsticks and tidy them all up before I head downstairs. Three years have passed since our divorce happened. Right after spending the night with Martin, I flew back to Singapore with Patricia. She dragged me out of my misery and then found ourselves here.

After everything? “That’s not true,” I say. “But you’ve already made up your mind about me, haven’t you?” “Then explain it!” he demands. I can’t. My throat feels tight. My emotions are all over the place. My frustration spreads through me and I blurt out words I instantly regret. “You know what, Carlos? I don’t need to explain anything to you. We’re divorced after all, aren’t we? In fact, this is the perfect time for me to move on to someone else’

“I’m strong. Nothing can scare me anymore.” At that moment, my phone vibrated. A message from a major client: “Devia, your team is amazing. We want to expand our contract with your company. Great work.” I smiled widely, feeling a satisfaction I had never known. This wasn’t just a professional victory—it was personal. I had proven to myself, Argantara, and Revania that I was no longer a submissive wife or a puppet in anyone’s hands. A few weeks later, the divorce was finally finalized at the civil office. I sat alone in the archives room, signing the last document. Each stroke of the pen on the paper felt like freeing myself from old chains.

Always someone else to blame. "Ex-wife." I corrected sharply, my voice cutting through his desperation like a razor blade. I took a step back, keeping the distance between us wide and cold. The marble floor felt like ice beneath my bare feet, grounding me in the present moment. "We are divorced, Graham. The paperwork is finalized. The ink has been dry for weeks. You have a child now. You have a life with someone else." "I don't care about any of that!" he cried, his face twisting into a mask of pure pain. His eyes glistened with unshed tears that caught the morning light streaming through the windows.

What was there to celebrate? I took another drink as my eyes burned and checked the clock again. Barely a minute had passed. I finished the last of the drink, wanting to keep the rest of the cash. It was all the money I had to my name after the divorce had wiped out what little savings I’d still had from before we were married, and I wouldn’t have access to the pack accounts until early next week. Though I was almost certain that Devin, my ex-husband, had used all her could to cover his portion of the divorce. He had left our marriage with nothing that hadn’t belonged to him before, and left me with our two children and a broken heart.

Louis, who was usually the most talkative one, murmured as he settled into his chair. My lips twitched slightly. “Pancakes and scrambled eggs. Would you like apple or pineapple juice?” I asked while walking toward the fridge. I was a thirty-seven-year-old divorcee, and my ex-husband had thrown me out because I couldn’t give him a child. Then I met my current husband, a fifty-four-year-old man who promised he didn’t want children as long as I stayed beside him and loved him. “Pineapple. I think the others would prefer apple,” Louis chimed.