Forgotten Wife: My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left novel Chapter 115

Sienna’s POV

Emily still sat across from me, calm, as if knowing that her words were enough to ignite the fire she desired. He didn't need to add anything more, because his silence was already proof of his superiority.

Time passed slowly. The sound of Noah's laughter from afar, the fainter aroma of coffee, and the chill of the cafe chair beneath my body felt so real, so oppressive. Yet, amidst all of that, there was a small whisper in my heart that tried to fight back. A whisper that I was no longer the woman I used to be, easily shattered by someone else's sharp words. That I had been through more than words could ever say.

I looked up, keeping my gaze steady despite the thousands of shards of pain trying to tear me apart from within. I wouldn't give him victory. I wouldn't let Emily dictate my course with her carefully prepared words.

"So, yes, Liam was confused for a moment. But from now on," she leaned forward, her tone like someone who had already won something that hadn't even begun, "I'll take care of Liam."

I stared at her for a long moment, trying to read whether she truly believed all that nonsense or was just trying to destroy me.

“So, just focus,” she continued, “on your work. On your life. Let him go, let it all go, Sienna.”

I laughed softly, not because it was funny, but because it felt like I was being forced to accept stupidity disguised as truth. “You think I’ll just stay quiet?” I asked quietly.

Emily shrugged, then suddenly her next sentence came out of nowhere, even crueler than the last.

“Noah too,” she said lightly. “I’ll take care of it. I’ve already found a suitable international school for him. He’ll have a good environment, a decent education, everything guaranteed. You can focus on yourself.”

Instantly, my blood boiled. I straightened, my hands now on the table, gripping the edges tightly to keep from slamming my fist.

“Don’t even think about it, Emily,” I said lowly, almost like a suppressed growl. “Noah is my son. I’ll be the one deciding his life. Not you.”

Emily remained calm, as always, with the expression of someone who believes she’s providing the best solution for the world. “Sienna, don’t be stubborn!” he said, this time his tone even sounding like advice.

I chuckled, pained, bitter, filled with anger that I forced to remain calm.

“Stubborn?” I repeated, looking her straight in the eye. “Do you think I’d hand my child over to someone who doesn’t even understand what it means to be a mother? Noah isn’t a toy, Emily. Not a prize you can snatch just because you want to win. Noah is my blood, my breath, my heart. I carried him, I gave birth, I stayed with him every night when he had a fever, I held back his tears when he asked why his father wasn’t home, and you, you just come over, sit here, and say you’ll take care of him?”

Emily didn’t answer immediately. The small smile finally cracked, but only for a moment. She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm, though I could see the faintest tremors in her eyes.

“Sienna, you’re smart, you have a career, you can build a good life without dwelling on the past. Liam isn’t the answer anymore.”

“Mommy,” his voice was soft, almost a whisper amidst the din of the other kids. “I’m tired. I want to go home.”

I smiled, trying to make sure it wasn’t just a cover-up, but a genuine smile for him. “Okay,” I said softly, stroking his slightly damp hair. “Let’s go home, shall we?”

Noah nodded slightly, taking my hand with his tiny one that felt much stronger than it looked. We walked out of the cafe, leaving the playground behind.

I glanced at Noah, making sure he wasn't cold, then looked down briefly and said, "But before we go home, how about we go to the supermarket first?"

Noah immediately looked up, his eyes wide, his tiredness slightly replaced by curiosity. "For what?" he asked.

I smiled slightly, bending down to his level. "To buy food. Our pantry is empty. Are we going to keep eating stale bread for breakfast?" I teased lightly.

Noah giggled softly, his face brightening up even though his body was still tired. "Want some fried chicken?" he asked hopefully.

"Sure, the kind you like, the one with the really crispy skin," I replied quickly, then gave him a light pat on the top of his head.