Chapter 8
His eyes widened in shock, the words hitting him like a physical blow. For a
second, he just stared at me, as if he hadn’t heard me right, as if the world had
tilted on its axis.
Then, slowly, his expression shifted, pain flickering in his eyes before he masked it with anger.
“Sylvia, you don’t mean that,” he said, his voice sharp, almost pleading.
I met his gaze, my heart steady, my resolve unbreakable.
“Yes, I do.” I turned away from him, pulling my shirt tighter around me as I curled up in the seat, closing my eyes. “I’m done.”
And for the first time in a long time, I meant it.
I watched as Dwight shot upright, his body tense as if he’d been holding back a flood of words for too long. His chest heaved before he let out a deep, exaggerated sigh, heavy with exasperation.
He rubbed his hand across his face, a very light stubble rasping against his palm, and then he glared at me as though I were the source of all his problems.
“You’re serious–this is all because I talked to Belinda? Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice was tight, edged with anger his words cutting through the stale air inside the car.
My stomach twisted at the mention of her name. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, a familiar rush of anger and hurt. I turned my face away from him, trying
1 to focus on the cityscape through the foggy car window.
“Can you stop being so damn unreasonable, Sylvia? God, this is ridiculous,” he
21:27
The Ex Husband’s Regret. Libut
Chapter 8
continued, his voice louder now, as if he could win the argument by sheer volume. “Yes, I used to be with her, but that was ages ago. You’re seriously upset over this?”
I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug deep into the flesh of my palms, sharp and painful, but it was grounding–something real amidst the swirl of emotions churning inside me.
The pain didn’t bother me though. It was almost a relief. I welcomed the sting, something physical to match the ache in my chest.
“The rumors, the gossip, it’s all bullshit,” Dwight said, his voice still pushing, still demanding something from me–belief, forgiveness, I didn’t even know anymore.
“Why can’t you trust me? I’ve told you a thousand times. None of it is real!”
But his words felt empty, hollow, like they were floating above us in the thick air,
not touching the growing chasm between us. His denial didn’t erase the truth I had lived with for months. The late–night calls he wouldn’t explain, the texts he deleted before I could see them, the way he was always a little too quick to offer
an excuse. How could he not see it?
I took a slow, deep breath, trying to hold myself together. “I’m tired, Dwight,” I said softly, the words slipping out before I could stop them. And it was true. The weight of it all had pressed down on me for so long that I was exhausted, utterly drained.
My voice sounded distant, even to me, like it belonged to someone else.
He fell silent. I could feel the tension in the car thickening like a heavy fog, pressing down on both of us. I turned my head and stared out the window again, looking on at the people and buildings, feeling my mind wander.
Dwight shifted beside me, his frustration palpable, filling ‘the small space between us. A flicker of orange light caught the corner of my eye as he lit a cigarette, the sharp scent of smoke cutting through the stale air.
I winced at the acrid smell, the smoke burning my throat and eyes, but I didn’t say anything. It was better than the silence stretching between us.
212
The Is Husband’s
Chapter 8
We sat like that for what felt like hours, though it was probably only minutes. The
car felt even smaller than before, cramped and suffocating, as if it couldn’t contain the weight of everything that had been left unsaid between us for too long.
This wasn’t our first fight. We had argued countless times before, and I could already feel the familiar pattern pulling us in. Dwight’s cold silence was always the first step, his way of punishing me, freezing me out until I caved. And I always did. I always gave in, always begged for things to go back to the way they were, to the way they were supposed to be.
But this time… this time something was different. I didn’t want to beg anymore. I
was done.
I couldn’t keep holding onto something that was breaking me.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” I whispered to myself, but the words felt louder in my head, echoing off every corner of my mind. For the first time, I let them settle there, let them grow. I was tired of fighting
