Forgotten Wife: My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left novel Chapter 112

112

+15 BONUS

Sienna’s POV

I closed my laptop slowly, letting a long sigh escape me without realizing it. The kitchen was silent, as was the living room. The house felt too still, too quiet for a heart as busy as mine. The black screen of my laptop reflected the image of my tired face, the faint dark circles under my eyes, and the blank look I couldn’t hide, even to myself.

I stood up, pulling out my chair slowly so as not to make any noise. My feet walked to the large window overlooking the small courtyard. Outside, sunlight filtered through the thin white curtains, casting faint shadows on the floor. The midday breeze carried the damp scent of the earth, mixed with the remnants of dew that hadn’t yet fully evaporated. Everything felt normal. Everything was going as usual. But my chest, my heart, my head, not so much.

This morning, I’d been able to mask my anxiety by busying myself in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, listening to Noah talk cheerfully about school. My smile was on, and I even managed to squeeze a small, bitter laugh out of my lips. But now, with the house completely silent, all those masks fell away one by one. All that was left was me, me with a myriad of questions and a wound that continued to bleed.

I walked to the bookshelf in the living room, my fingers tracing the neatly stacked spines of the books. There were several I hadn’t finished. Usually, I’d get lost in reading, using the words as an escape. But this afternoon, even books couldn’t help. My vision was blurry, not because of the small letters, but because of my incessant thoughts.

Emily. That name alone was enough to make my chest tighten. Her gaze, her bitter smile, her last words from last night, they were all still stuck in my head. I didn’t know whether to be angry, afraid, or just resigned. I wanted to trust Liam, to be sure that I was no longer walking alone on this thorny path. But the shadows of the past that came with their real faces were too hard to ignore.

I shuffled to the sofa, sitting down, hugging a pillow. The thick silence was broken only by the ticking of the wall clock. Slowly, my eyes closed, not to sleep, but to try to regain my heavy breathing.

I thought about Noah. How innocent he had seemed this morning when he told me about his drawing, about a simple house filled with laughter. The child just wanted security, just to see us together without a rift. And I, I wanted to give him that. But could I? Could I give him something I wasn’t even sure I could

protect?

The phone on the table vibrated softly, displaying an incoming message notification. I glanced at it briefly, but didn’t immediately reach for it. I felt like I needed a break. I needed space without sound, without demands. Let the message wait. Right now, I just wanted to sit here, silent, letting my thoughts spin, even though I knew they would only get more tangled.

Outside, small birds chirped merrily. It was a stark contrast to the silence inside. I hugged my pillow tighter, stared at the ceiling, and wondered, how much longer can I endure this?

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I walked slowly down the hallway, searching for the small voice that usually warmed this house.

Behind the slightly ajar door, I found it. Noah sat on the floor of his room, crayons scattered around him, his face intently staring at the white paper already covered in bright colors.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching him silently for a few seconds. There was something soothing about just watching him lose himself in his own world, innocent, honest, and carefree, without the

burdens adults like to create for themselves.

I slowly walked in and sat down beside him. “What are you doing, Noah, honey?” I asked, my voice deliberately soft, as if afraid of disturbing his thoughts.

Noah looked up, a small smile immediately spreading. “I’m drawing Mommy, Daddy, and Noah!” he

replied proudly, pointing to three large circles linked by small hands, wide smiles on each face.

My chest trembled. My throat suddenly felt dry. How simple his happiness was, how deep his hope. It was just one drawing, but I knew it was his silent prayer, a hope he harbored more sincerely than anyone

else in this house.

I stroked his hair gently. “That’s a great drawing, Noah.”

His eyes lit up at the praise, and he added more color to the circle he said was me, turning his dress blue,

he said blue was Mommy’s favorite color.

I paused for a moment, staring at him, then asked, “Noah, do you want to go out with Mommy?”

Her head shot up, her eyes wide, as if I’d just offered her tickets to an amusement park. “I do!” she exclaimed, her body instantly springing to life and doing a little jump.

I chuckled at his reaction. “Okay, let’s get ready. Get dressed.”

Noah nodded quickly, then ran to his closet. I walked to my room and changed into simple clothes, comfortable trousers, a white top, and a simple hair tie. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. I was still

tired, but somehow a small spark of excitement was ignited by seeing Noah so happy.

It wasn’t long before Noah appeared at my door, wearing his favorite dinosaur T–shirt, shorts, and a little hat I’d bought him at a shop near his school.

“Mommy, I’m ready!” he exclaimed proudly.

I smiled. “Mommy’s a smart boy,”

We left the house. The road ahead felt brighter than usual, maybe because the sky was clear, or maybe because my heart was momentarily relieved from the tension from last night. I raised my hand and hailed a passing taxi.

“To the cafe with the children’s playground, sir,” I said to the driver after getting in.

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Noah sat next to me, staring out the window with curious eyes. He pointed out several things along the way, a large tree, a passing motorcycle, balloons sold on the sidewalk. Occasionally he’d ask a question, sometimes he’d just point and laugh to himself, and I’d chuckle along.

The taxi stopped in front of a fairly busy cafe. From outside, a small playground area was visible next to

it, with slides, swings, and a colorful ball pit.

As soon as we entered, Noah immediately grabbed my hand, his body almost impatient. His eyes couldn’t

leave the playground.

“Mommy, can we play now?” he asked hopefully.

I nodded with a smile. “Okay, but be careful.”

He nodded quickly, then let go of my hand and jogged to the play area, joining several other children

already laughing happily there.

I chose a table by the window, close enough to keep an eye on him. A waiter approached, and I ordered a

cup of black coffee and a croissant.