Chapter 7
I tried to push him away, to swat his hands from me, but he was quicker and stronger. He caught my wrists easily, pinning them against the seat as if it took no effort at all. His eyes burned into mine, sharp and unyielding, but when he spoke
again, his voice was softer, almost tender.
“Can you, for once, just take care of yourself?” His voice wavered, roughened by
the edge of something that sounded too much like concern. “I tried calling
you–over and over, and you never picked up. You disappeared. You left without a word. What the hell was I supposed to think?”
I gritted my teeth, trying to wrestle my wrists free, but he held firm. His grip wasn’t hurting me, but it was unbreakable, a reminder of just how little control I
had in this situation.
I didn’t want to answer him; I didn’t want to explain, but the words boiled up in my throat, bitter and sharp, just like the disappointment I’d been choking on for
weeks.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the surgery?” He continued, his voice thick with
frustration. “You went under the knife, and I didn’t know. You could’ve-” His
breath hitched, and his grip on my wrists tightened just a fraction. “You could’ve died, Sylvia. And you didn’t even tell me. What, you think I’m dead to you or something?”
His voice broke on my name, and something twisted deep inside me. He looked at me, really looked at me, his brown eyes darkening with an emotion I didn’t want to see, an emotion I wasn’t prepared to deal with.
Hurt. Fear. Maybe even regret. As if this was something that affected him, something that wounded him, too.
As if he had any right to feel that way.
The Ex Husband’s Regret: 1 5h
Uvurnals After Our Divorce
Chapter 7
I let out a bitter laugh, a cold, mirthless sound that echoed through the car. He wanted to act like he cared now, but where was he when I needed him most? Where was he when I made that first, terrified phone call?
“Don’t act like you care,” I spat, yanking my hands free from his grasp and quickly pulling my torn shirt back together. “You don’t get to do this–this concerned, hurt act, Dwight. Not after everything.”
His face hardened again, but his eyes never left mine. I could feel the heat of his gaze, burning through me, but I was done. I was so far past caring what he felt, what he thought. I’d been through hell, and he’d left me to do it alone.
Half a month ago, I found out there was something growing in my breast. I
remember the sterile smell of the doctor’s office, the cold click of the door as it
closed behind me, and the way the doctor’s expression shifted as he delivered the
news.
The mass was fairly large, he said. It needed to be removed immediately for a
biopsy. “It’s probably nothing,” he added quickly, though I saw the worry in his eyes, the way his hands fidgeted as he explained the procedure. “But we need to
be sure.”
ΓΙ
“Sure….”
That word had haunted me for weeks. I scheduled the surgery for the soonest
possible date, but the fear gnawed at me, day after day. I was terrified, more terrified than I’d ever been in my life. The thought that this could be it–that I could be staring down a death sentence–was paralyzing.
And who did I call?
I called Dwight.
Because despite everything, he was still the one person I thought I could lean on.
I hesitated before making the call, though. paced the room, phone in hand,
The Ex–Husband’s Regret: I Shot to the Overnight Alter Our Divorce
Chapter 7
debating whether or not to bother him. He was probably busy. He always was. Still, in the end, I dialed his number. The phone rang and rang, and just when I was abo
to give up, he answered.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice low, distracted. “What’s up?”
I froze. That single word-“yeah“-summed up everything about us. He wasn’t worried. He wasn’t even curious. I was just another task on his never–ending to–do list. Tears burned at the back of my eyes, and I struggled to speak, my voice breaking before I could even get the words out.
“I… I’m sick,” I managed, my voice barely a whisper. But before I could explain, before I could tell him how scared I was, I heard another voice in the background.
“Dwight, if you don’t come over right now, I’m really going to be mad,” said a woman’s voice… Belinda’s voice.
My stomach clenched, and I felt the last bit of hope drain from me.
Dwight chuckled softly, the sound so casual, so detached. He turned his attention back to me, completely unaware of the turmoil raging inside me.
“Wait. I’ll call you back in a bit,” he said, his tone as nonchalant as ever.
I stared at the phone in disbelief as the call ended. That was it. No concern. No urgency. Nothing. He didn’t even ask what was wrong.
I waited. I waited all night. Midnight came and went, and still, no call. It was then that I realized something I should have known long ago.
‘I was always the one waiting.”
Waiting for him to care, waiting for him to come through, waiting for him to choose me over everything else.
But Dwight, I’m not waiting anymore.
21:27
Chapter
I blinked, pulling myself out of the painful memory and focusing on the man in front of me. He was watching me intently, his face still tight with anger, worry, and something I didn’t want to name. But it didn’t matter anymore. I was done
caring, done waiting.
“Dwight,” I said, my voice so cold, so distant that even I barely recognized it. “Let’s get a divorce.”
