Forgotten Wife: My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left novel Chapter 14

Sienna’s POV

This pain didn’t arrive all at once. It came slowly–like rain leaking through a roof. Drop by drop, silent and unnoticed, until everything was soaked. That’s how I lost everything–quietly and gradually.

I forced myself to stand and walk over to the desk. I opened the email I had received that morning–a notification that I had passed the first round of a writing selection from a foreign website. I was supposed to be happy, right?

I was happy. Truly, I was.

But that happiness couldn’t mend the other wounds. It couldn’t erase the bitter taste that came with knowing this success–like everything I’d ever achieved–would mean nothing to anyone in this house.

I stared at my laptop screen again. I dared myself to type a few more sentences into my manuscript, words born from the deepest ache.

Suddenly, Noah’s laughter echoed from outside. This time, Liam’s voice followed. They must have finished baking. Maybe Noah would feed Emily little bites of warm chocolate cake, giggling. Maybe Liam would tell Emily she looked like a natural mother.

Who knows?

I didn’t want to know.

I closed the laptop slowly and walked toward the window. From between the curtain slats, I saw them in the living room. Noah sat on Emily’s lap, feeding her tiny pieces of cake. Liam sat beside them, chuckling softly as Noah licked chocolate off his fingers, smearing batter across the sofa.

A picture of happiness. The kind that should’ve been mine.

I know people will judge me for feeling this way. I still have a husband, a child, a big house. But they don’t understand what it’s like to be loved for your role, not for your self. To be valued for your cooking, not for who you are when you’re not serving. To be cherished when you’re taking care of everyone–but forgotten when you’re the one who’s unwell.

I touched my stomach, still sore. The medication from this morning hadn’t fully kicked in. But I’d survive. I had to survive.

As I closed the curtain, I took a deep breath. I no longer had a place out there. But I still had one tiny space–inside my words. And that… was just enough to keep me from completely falling apart.

A knock broke the silence of my room. I turned my face from the screen just as the door creaked open. Liam stood in the doorway.

“Noah, Emily, and I are going out for dinner,” he said simply. His voice was calm, but there was a distance in it that couldn’t be. crossed.

I looked at him for a moment. My lips nearly moved, almost asking if I was invited too. But no words came. Deep down, I already knew the answer.

Liam continued without waiting for a response. “Oh, and Noah’s teacher gave him an assignment. It’s due tomorrow. Help him finish it tonight.”

He lowered his tone as if to underline the instruction, then turned and walked away.

The door shut behind him, leaving me alone in a silence that pressed down like weight on my chest. I sat, frozen, letting his words sink in.

So that was it?

No invitation. No thought that maybe–I wanted to have dinner with them too. Not even a sentence that suggested I was part of

I stared at the closed door. Empty. Quiet. But not the kind of quiet that soothes–more like the kind that echoes in a hollow space that’s never really been filled.

I took a deep breath, but the tightness didn’t ease. It felt as if even this house had slowly begun rejecting me, turning me into a guest overstaying her welcome.

All of it bore silent witness to how hard I’d been trying to hold on–to still be the best version of myself, even when no one

Maybe I’d hoped for too much. Maybe I’d hoped Liam would still see me–not just as a backup nanny, not as someone to be tasked with homework–but as… his wife. As someone who wanted to be included, loved, seen.

I had just brought in a stack of neatly folded laundry from the front door. The fresh scent of fabric softener lingered on my fingertips as I carried it carefully to each room. It had been part of my routine for years.

I knew which shirt belonged to Liam, which uniform to Noah, and which clothes–oddly unfamiliar–belonged to Emily. 1

But as I was arranging them carefully on the glass table, the bathroom door swung open.

Emily stepped out, towel–drying her hair. She froze when she saw me.

Her eyes widened slightly. I offered a small, awkward smile–trying to maintain the politeness I always did.

“Sorry, I was just dropping off your laundry,” I murmured. My voice barely above a whisper.

I stood up straight. My fingers trembled a little–I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the feeling of being a guest in my own house.

Or maybe it was the look in Emily’s eyes. She didn’t seem surprised or embarrassed–just… annoyed.

“Just leave it at the door, Sienna. No need to come in,” she said sharply. Cold. Without a trace of courtesy.

I flinched. Her words hit like a slap. My breath caught.

“S–sorry. I thought…”

My voice trailed off. There was no excuse. No justification that would make

ke sense.