Dear Ex Wife, Please take me back novel Chapter 142

ATHENA

“I’m sorry,” Isabelle says slowly, blinking like she’s trying to process what I just told her. “Let me get this straight, you fell asleep after we left the party, and Alex carried you to his bed? Then he made you coffee and cinnamon buns?”

I nod, curling my hands tighter around the coffee cup I’ve barely sipped from.

She stares at me. “Was the coffee poisoned? Did you get food poisoning from the buns? Any hallucinations? Sudden urge to forgive the man who broke your heart and set your world on fire?”

I laugh.

“No hallucinations just yet. But who knows, maybe it takes a week.”

“Why didn't you say no.” She asks, her face still in shock.

“I did. He insisted.” I respond.

“Don’t let him fool you twice, Athena. That man doesn't deserve you.”

I laugh again.

Isabelle gives me a look. “I’m serious, Athena. Don’t let your guard down just because he smiled or made coffee. That man is a walking red flag wrapped in a fitted suit and looks to die for.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” I mutter under my breath. “I know who he is better than anyone.”

“I’m not being dramatic, I’m being realistic. What did he do after breakfast? Offer you a foot massage and apologize for emotionally scarring you?”

“Nope. I went about my way.” I respond. Holding back the fact that I let him drive me after he insisted.

Why am I allowing him to do things for me?

Isabelle narrows her eyes at me like she can read every thought I’m trying to shove down.

“You let him drive you home too, didn't you?” she echoes slowly. “Athena…”

“I didn’t ask him,” I mutter, taking a sip of my now-lukewarm coffee. “He insisted. I was too tired to go back and forth with his stubborn self.”

“Oh, how considerate of you,” she deadpans. “Helping your ex maintain his fake good guy image. So noble.”

“You know it's not like that.” I defend myself.

“Uh huh. Obviously, that speech got to you, didn't it? I hate Alex, but damn, he did have my jaw on the floor after those words. But that doesn't change the fact that you should stay away from that man. Focus on Zayan. He loves and cherishes you.”

Before I can respond, Zayan’s voice cuts in with playful tease, and panick grabs my chest as I face Izzy.

I surely hope he didn't hear that.

“HI ladies.” He smiles as he walks over, casually placing a kiss on my cheek.

Isabelle makes a noise between a groan and a scoff. “I’m leaving before I start choking on the romance fumes.”

“We’re not-” I start to say, but she’s already waving us off and heading out of the cafe with a muttered excuse about reviewing patient files.

Zayan watches her go, then glances at me with a smile that’s just slightly mischievous.

“What were you talking about that has her running?”

“Nothing serious. Just girl stuff.” I give him a smile, and he nods.

Placing a kiss inside my palm.

“I've missed you.” He says, and my heart stops.

“Zayan-”

“I know, don't cross the line, dadadadda.” He falls back in the chair with a laugh. How's ER going?”

“Hectic. This is the first time I've caught a break in 48 hours. But no complaints, I love saving lives.”

We both get up in sync, grabbing our bags and coffees forgotten on the table.

By the time we reach the 20th floor, several doctors and nurses are already gathered in the large glass conference room.

Murmurs buzz like static in the air. Some look worried. Others are confused.

I sure do fall on the fence of worry and confusion.

Zayan and I take our seats when the doors open, and the man we only hear about steps into the room.

Dr. Elias Quinn.

The man behind Quinns Medical Center. A legend. A ghost. A name more than a face.

He never shows up for staff meetings. He barely even walks the hospital halls.

After his son took the position of director, he is rarely seen.

So this must be extremely serious.

I've only seen his face in Ian's photos, but those eyes are not something I can forget.

He is standing with his hands behind his back, his eyes scanning every single person who walks in like he’s memorizing us. Then his eyes fall on me, and my heartbeat accelerates.

Ian takes a seat with other senior doctors before Dr. Elias Quin clears his throat, and just like that, the room falls into complete silence.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he says, his voice crisp but calm. “I understand most of you are either in the middle of shifts or just coming off them. This couldn’t wait.”

My fingers grip the back of a chair. I feel Zayan shift beside me.

“There’s been a breach,” Dr. Quinn continues. “Patient records were accessed last night. Unlawfully.”