Forgotten Wife: My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left novel Chapter 10

Sienna’s POV

The smell of toasted bread filled the kitchen, blending with the aroma of omelet and sautéed vegetables. My hands moved on autopilot, but my mind felt blank. My body was still wrecked–only an hour of sleep after a long night. But as always, there was no time for being sick. No space for rest.

I flipped the bread, checking the color. Then I poured the egg mixture into the second pan. It sizzled softly, welcoming the heat the way I welcomed this morning–grudgingly.

The wall clock showed 7:25 a.m.

Liam would leave soon.

Noah usually came down right after.

And me… I would be a shadow among them, like always. Present, but barely noticed.

I grabbed the plates and began arranging breakfast. One for Liam, complete with fruit slices. Another for Noah, with heart- shaped toast I had cut with a tiny mold–a habit I hadn’t quite let go of. Maybe because deep inside, I still had a flicker of hope that someday, my son would remember who I was.

As I was about to set the plates on the table, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Heavy and firm. Liam.

He appeared in the kitchen doorway, eyes scanning the table without expression.

“Quick,” he muttered, picking up the jacket he’d hung over a chair earlier.

I didn’t respond. Just glanced briefly at him, then went back to placing the utensils.

“Hot tea?” I asked quietly.

“No.”

He sat down and began eating the toast, never once looking at me.

I inhaled deeply, trying to suppress the sting rising in my chest.

This wasn’t the first time. But it still felt like a wound being scraped open again and again–never healing, always fresh.

I sat at the edge of the table, not planning to eat. Just staring at the empty cup in front of me. I couldn’t swallow anything this morning. Even water felt heavy.

“Don’t forget to clean the floor. Noah spilled juice yesterday.”

A light laugh made me turn.

At the dining table, Noah was already seated with Emily.

My little boy laughed cheerfully while pointing at something on his tablet, and Emily met each of his words with a warm smile and full attention.

The kind of moment I should’ve cherished–if only I wasn’t the stranger in this house.

“Noah, have more breakfast, okay?” I said gently, trying to smile. “I made your favorite–honey–fried chicken.”

Noah only glanced at me, then returned to chatting with Emily. As if I… was the intruder.

“Mommy…” Noah suddenly said, “My teacher said a parent has to come to school today for the competition.”

“Oh, really?” I replied, smiling though it was tight. “Then Mommy will come, okay?”

Noah immediately looked up. His expression changed. From neutral to annoyed.

“No! I don’t want Mommy to come!” he snapped.

I was stunned. “Why? I-”

My chest felt like it was being slowly crushed.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

Noah’s words kept echoing inside my head. “I hate Mommy…”

Words no child should ever say.

Words that lashed across the heart like a whip–deep and merciless.

Emily looked at me for a moment. Her eyes calm. No anger–but no empathy either.

“Let me take care of Noah this morning,” she said. “You still don’t look well.”

“You don’t look like you’ve recovered.”

That line wasn’t sympathy. It wasn’t concern. It was just a confirmation–that I was weak, that I wasn’t capable, that I wasn’t needed.

I swallowed hard and gently set the plate down on the table, careful not to make a sound, as if even the smallest noise might spark more reasons for them to hate me.

Then came the heavy footsteps down the stairs. Liam..

He stood in the kitchen doorway with that firm expression, his gaze sharp and accusatory, aimed directly at me.

“You yelled at him?” he asked, his voice edged with judgment.

I looked at him, still catching my breath, still trying to calm the storm inside my chest.

“He crossed the line, Liam… I just ”