Texts From My Ex Novels & Stories

"Or how strange we are." I pulled my face back and looked into his eyes with a mischievous smile. "It looks like separating was the kick-start for our relationship to truly begin. The divorce didn't make me your ex... it was just the beginning."

Which he replied ‘finally’ and that just devolved into chaos. Chuckling, I scrolled through my other messages and my eyes landed on one that was sent only a few minutes ago. Z: I’ve been better. My eyes stared at the number and I cursed when I realized I drunk texted my soon to be ex-husband. Why didn’t the bartender stop me? Shit. Now it showed read, too. I cursed new technology. Sighing, I fell back on the pillows and looked at the message. E: I hope it all worked out.

Three texts. I opened the messages first. The first one was a photo: Matteo, my ex, on a hospital bed with tubes connected everywhere on his body, his right leg was gone below the knee, bandages wrapped around his hand like a club, his mouth propped open around what looked like a breathing tube. The next text: This is your fault. You did this to him. The third: Answer your phone, bitch. My pulse thundered. Before I could process the image the phone rang again—same unknown number.

My days here were numbered. As I approached my beat-up jalopy parked across the aisle from her Highlander and her new boyfriend's Range Rover (Yeah, she divorced her husband two years ago for obvious reasons and she gets to bang a new man every week. Seriously, what sort of example is she setting for her son? Won't she deflate her giant-sized ego and either get back with her hubby or settle down?) It was none of my business though. I needed to get home and update Father on what happened today. I slid into my car and almost backed up into the almost empty parking lot. At the same moment, Juliana, my now ex-girlfriend texted me again. The green bubble flashed with a bubble and a photo of her t

Which is what I’d been doing until he sent me this stupid text. I saved that one as Stupid Ex 2.0. Then I wrote a text to respond to his message. Me: I’m leaving tomorrow. Anything you wish to discuss can wait until I arrive on Friday. With that done, I plugged in my phone, set it on the nightstand, and climbed into bed. My body melted into the mattress almost immediately. It had been such a full day, filled with laughter, food, movement—and Cassiel. I was worn out in the best possible way.

It was the loser who I thought I was in love with. “Don't text me again.” “I don't know why you're so mad at me, Mami. What we had was real love.” “Real love without money, I'm out; don't text me; I might have a chance with my ex-husband; who knows?” “No, you don't. He has another woman in his arms. I heard this from my buddy still working at the mansion.” “What? Are you sure about this? “Yes, Mami, just come to me.”

As I lay in bed, I felt the already-accumulated tears running down my face. I barely wiped them off, but they kept falling uncontrollably. It took me only one memory flash to remember the type of married life I had been exposed to. And yes, I can now recall the faces and voices of the man and the lady I had seen in the corridor a few hours ago. That was my ex-husband, Ethan Archer, the one who divorced to be with my step sister, Bella, the same lady I met with him outside. Everything played in my head like a movie, but I knew they were all real.

“Of course.” Then my phone vibrated, making my pull away from his embrace and reach for it. On the screen was a text from a number that I hadn't seen in three years. It felt like a storm brewed in the pit of my stomach. [I hear you're MD now. You whore! Don't think I don't know what you did.] There were three pictures attached. My hands shook as I downloaded them, hoping it wasn't what I thought. But there it was, a fake picture of me and Bradley in a hotel bed. That never happened!

Sometimes I just get really fucking horny. Usually that's when I text my ex, because I'm the absolute worst and wouldn't know self-control if it was literally dicking me down. I was on break at my weekend job with my finger hovering over the send button when Beth snatched my phone out of my hand. "I know that look," she said. "If you're fucking texting Matt again, I swear to God..." "I wasn't texting Matt." She squinted at the screen.

he whispered against my ear. We stayed in the water for a long while, and he washed my hair, his fingers massaging my scalp slowly and thoroughly. “Now tell me about your past, all of it,” he said. “You first, the full story,” I said. “My ex was a partner in business and in bed. She stole a large sum of money and left without a word. It made me cold, trust shattered, walls built high so no one could get in again for years,” he said.