Forgotten Wife: My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left novel Chapter 25

Sienna’s POV

I stopped at the entrance of the supermarket. My body still felt tired, but my mind refused to rest. Tomorrow would be the last day–my final day in this house, in their lives. But I didn’t want it to be a sad farewell.

I wanted to end everything gently, like the final episode of a favorite drama–one that leaves you with both a smile and tears. Not with wounds. Not with anger or sharp words that would haunt them–or me–forever.

So I walked in, pushing the cart slowly. The mall lights were harsh on my eyes, the sounds of running children, store music, and discount announcements never felt this foreign before.

1 stopped at the meat aisle. I picked out a cut of beef–Liam’s favorite, back when I used to cook beef wellington for him. I paused, staring at it. It had been a long time since I cooked with love for him.

At the vegetable rack, I grabbed carrots and baby potatoes. I remembered how much Noah loved my mashed potatoes he once said the texture reminded him of clouds. A small smile tugged at my lips.

At the seafood section, I picked up fresh shrimp. Emily might be better at cooking healthy meals, but Noah always got excited when I made crispy fried shrimp. His eyes would light up, and he’d hug me tightly, telling me I cooked like the chefs on his favorite cooking shows.

I filled the cart with the best ingredients–even picked up Liarn’s favorite wine, the one we used to share on anniversaries. I didn’t care if he no longer remembered. This wasn’t about memories–it was about ending things properly.

Then, my steps halted at the toy section.

I knew it was silly, but I just stood there, staring at the shelves filled with toy cars, dinosaurs, and light–up robots.

My gaze landed on a large box: the Transformer X–10. The toy Noah had been asking for the past few months. I had said it was too expensive, that he already had too many. He never argued, just nodded quietly. But I knew he was disappointed.

Now… I could finally give it to him.

I reached for the box and hugged it tight. I didn’t even realize my eyes were beginning to sting. I wiped the corners of my eyes. quickly before anyone could notice. I told myself this wasn’t sadness. This was warmth–the kind that comes from still being able to give him something to remember me by, even after I’m gone.

At the stationery aisle, I picked a small blue card. On it, I’d later write:

“For Noah, from Mommy–who will always love you, even from afar.”

At the cashier, I stared at everything I’d bought, chest tightening. Maybe this really was the end. But at least… it was an end I chose myself.

After paying, I walked out slowly. Night had fallen, and the soft breeze fluttered my thin jacket. I gripped the shopping bags tightly—not just groceries, but fragments of memory, regret, and hope. The cart was returned. Now it was just me, the bags, and the walk toward the ending I had made peace with.

I didn’t go home right away. For some reason, my feet led me to the small park across the mall. It wasn’t a special place. But tonight, I needed it–a quiet spot to sit, to breathe, to convince myself that I wasn’t running away. I was saying goodbye, calmly.

I sat on a wooden bench still damp with evening dew and opened my phone. There were a few messages from Emily asking if I’d bought Noah’s vitamins, and one from Liam–just a single sentence: Don’t forget the milk. I smiled. Cold. Ordinary. As always. And oddly enough, it didn’t weigh on me anymore. I now knew what to expect and what not to.

1 opened an old digital note I had saved. A tiny list titled “Things I Want to Do If I Have to Leave.”

1/2

There were five items. Four were already crossed off:

Make Noah’s favorite breakfast

Buy the Transformer X–10.

Cook beef wellington for Liam one last time.

Write a small letter to Emily, even if she might not read it right away.

Only one remained:

“See them smile before I go.”

I held my phone tighter. I didn’t know if I’d get to cross that one off. But I would try.

The sound of children laughing by the slide caught my attention. They ran freely, without burdens, untouched by sorrow. It reminded me of when Noah was three, when he climbed the slide for the first time on his own. He cried from fear but laughed so hard afterward that he fell on his bottom. I laughed with him, then pulled him into a hug. It felt like yesterday.

Time moves so fast.

And sometimes, loss doesn’t come through death. Sometimes, we lose our place in someone’s heart while we’re still alive–still here.

I took a deep breath. Then stood.

I still had one more night. One more chance to fill the dining table with laughter. To leave behind a memory not of fights or Liam’s cold silences. I didn’t know what they’d feel after I left. But I wanted them to know: I tried my best. I loved them with all I had–even if, in the end, I chose not to stay.

I walked back toward the parking lot, carrying bags full of hope and memory.

A thin smile on my lips–not out of joy, but because, for the first time, I wasn’t afraid of the end anymore.

When I got home, I went straight to the kitchen and began putting everything away. The fridge was full, and my heart felt a little lighter. I tucked the gift box into the closet and locked it tight. Tomorrow morning, I’d wrap it in a blue ribbon–Noah’s favorite

color.

I turned on the kettle, made myself a cup of chamomile tea, and sat in the living room. The house was quiet. Liam, Noah, and Emily weren’t home yet–where they were, I didn’t know. But I didn’t feel alone. Tonight… I just wanted to enjoy the calm before this small storm passed.

My eyes shifted to the right. The photo–Liam, Noah, and Emily–still stood proudly on the shelf. I walked over and stared at it in silence. Then slowly, I reached out and touched the glass frame.

“Tomorrow night,” I whispered. “Will be the last time I stand in this room as Noah’s ‘Mommy.‘ And you… as my husband.”