Dear Ex Wife, Please take me back novel Chapter 166

ATHENA

Three days later….

“Today is our last day, and we must make the best of it!” The teacher announces just as Rose pulls a chair to sit next to me.

I barely look up. My mind is still spinning, replaying that night like a broken record on loop.

The kiss.

God.

That kiss.

It had knocked the air out of my lungs and left a dull ache in my chest. I couldn’t shake off. Like a burn that wouldn’t stop tingling.

I hadn’t talked to Alex since. Not properly, anyway. I mean, we share a room, so speaking is inevitable.

We’d shared a few stolen glances, a tension-filled breakfast where I refused to look at him, and one accidental brush of hands that sent my entire nervous system into panic mode.

Rose leans toward me, snapping her gum loudly. “You look like you haven’t slept in three days.”

“I haven’t,” I mumble, flipping my pen in my hand.

“Why? You miss Zayan?” She asks.

I pause, turning to look at the growing smile on her face.

Yeah, I… I do.”

I’m lying. I don’t, but I’m not about to admit who is buried in my mind.

“We’re more similar than you think, sweetie.” Rose places a warm hand on my back.

“We are?” I laugh.

I don’t think so.

“Yep. So I’ll help you save time and tell you to just break up with Zayan. He’ll be fine. You don’t click like you do with Alex. I know that because I, too, was in the same situation.

You see, Ethan did some shady things when we just got married. He didn't cheat. he just hurt me with his actions. Then I divorced him and ran away with my surviving triplets.

I lost one, unfortunately, but two grew into beautiful kids. They’re nine this year, and we had one more, Kai is our last born.

I’m not telling you this because I support what he did. But because I can tell he loves you and as long as he didn't cheat or lay his hands on you, I think it's okay to give it another try. I saw the way he looks at you, the day we came to have Zayan reinstated.

I always see that look, so I’d know it from anywhere. I know you feel no spark with Zayan, too. So why torture yourself? Life is too short babe, you never know when you’re breathing your last, so don’t waste any second!”

My mouth opens.

Then it closes again.

Then it opens.

I can’t form any sentences. I met Ethan. I think he’s here as we speak. He must be with the fathers on the other side. But the way he looks at her, protects and loves her.

I can’t picture him being anything else.

The way he kisses Rose’s forehead every time he walks past her? The man who brings her tea every morning we’ve been here and carries their sleeping son on his back like it’s his favorite burden?

Their love looks effortless.

Like it was born perfect.

But it isn’t.

Maybe no love is ever born perfect. It has to be forged in fire, in a mess, and all the imperfections for it to thrive.

And maybe… maybe our story deserves a second chance.

Does that mean there’s hope?

Am I thinking about taking Alex back?

We laughed and had a good time.

Is that when the fire started? It never went away exactly, but I buried it so deep and locked it in resentment so I wouldn't feel it again.

But he broke down my walls bit by bit until that fire cracked and warmed up my chest until it burned.

Rose raises an eyebrow, nudging me softly.

“What is that smile? Please give me the good news. Do we have hope with Alex?”

I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to stifle another laugh, then shake my head.

“The man only knows how to boil water.”

“Then I guess we better make sure our boys get to learn the basic skills of life!” She stands, pulling her shirt to her elbow.

“Where do we start?”

“Right over there, Mrs. Sinclair!” the teacher points.

The moment Rose rolls up her sleeves, I feel a flicker of excitement spark in my chest.

She’s ready. And honestly, I am, too.

It looks fun, and even though I don’t know shit about building, I’m willing to try until I get it right. Rayen and the other kids are going to watch, and that’s a big deal. How we handle this will reflect in their minds forever.

Right after the teacher finishes explaining, a voice from the other group pipes up.

“You expect us to cook?” one of the fathers scoffs, his arms folded over his designer shirt. “Come on, we have people for that.”

A chorus of chuckles follows from a few other dads, all shaking their heads like the idea of holding a spatula might kill them.

“This is ridiculous,” another adds. “I’m a CEO. I don’t need to prove I can flip a burger.”

“Exactly,” a third chimes in. “Why embarrass ourselves? This isn’t MasterChef. My son will inherit my company, not a damn kitchen!”