Falling For My Ex-husband Again

Chapter 5

NEAH’S POV

When I returned to our table, I immediately noticed the tension in Dave’s expression. A strange sense of dread slowly crawled into my chest. I didn’t know why, but suddenly, I was terrified of what he was about to say.

His attention was fixed entirely on his phone. He didn’t even notice me approaching until I cleared my throat softly and sat down across from him.

“Love,” he murmured quietly. I gave him a faint smile, pretending not to notice the uneasiness written all over his face. What happened while I was gone? Did someone call him? Was it work again?

“What happened?” I asked calmly. I wanted to believe he wouldn’t ruin this night. We had only just started trying to fix our marriage. I didn’t want to feel again that his work still mattered more to him than I did. He let out a deep breath. But he still couldn’t look directly into my eyes. I could tell he was hesitating, unsure whether he should say what was on his mind.

“Dave,” I called softly.

“We have an emergency meeting, and they need me at the company,” he said quietly. “We could lose millions, love.” A bitter smile slowly formed on my lips. I wasn’t surprised anymore. Was this how we would always be? Would every date we had always end up ruined? Would they always call for him every single time there was another meeting? I knew how desperately Dave wanted to achieve his dreams, and I could never bring myself to stop him. I didn’t want to force him to choose me over his career. I just wanted him to choose me willingly. From the bottom of his heart. Because honestly, he never really had to choose. If only he had learned how to balance his time between work and me.

I didn’t answer him immediately. Instead, I stared at the untouched food on our table.

“Love, I really need to be there,” he said again. Finally, I looked into his pleading eyes. As though the decision depended entirely on me. But what could I do except let him go? Let him leave me behind over and over again.

“Go,” I answered softly. I saw the hesitation flicker in his eyes. I forced myself to smile faintly. “If they need you there, then just go. I’ll wait for you here.” As painful as it was that he still couldn’t decide on his own… I had no choice. All I ever wanted was for him to choose me without me having to ask. Without forcing him.

He reached for my hand. I stared blankly at the way his fingers wrapped around mine.

“Wait for me here,” he said softly. “I’ll come back. I’ll try to finish the meeting as quickly as possible so I can return right away.” I nodded faintly even though a part of me wanted to stop him.

Wanted to beg him— Choose me. Please don’t leave me alone again. He stood up and pressed a kiss against my forehead.

“I’ll come back,” he repeated. I didn’t answer this time. I simply watched him walk farther and farther away until he disappeared from sight completely. And as the cold wind blew across the rooftop. The food on our table slowly grew colder too.

I let out a deep breath. What chance did I really stand against his work? Honestly, sometimes I thought it would have been easier if there had been another woman. At least then, there would have been a clear reason for you to leave. A clear reason for our relationship to fall apart.

But this? He never hurt me physically. He never cheated. And yet somehow, loving him was exhausting because no matter what happened, work always came before me.

I understood him. I supported him. But would I always be the only one trying to understand us? Our child died. I needed him during those moments more than ever. And still, he stayed at work. He couldn’t even excuse himself from work to come see me.

At first, I tried to distract myself while waiting for him. I watched the city lights. Listened to the violin music. Repeatedly, I told myself he would come back. I forced myself to believe it. Would he really come back?

I knew Dave was trying to fix our relationship, so I wanted to believe he would keep his promise. But as time passed, the food on the table grew colder. The candle slowly burned away. And the heaviness inside my chest became harder and harder to ignore.

I glanced at the time. An hour had already passed since he left. I picked up my phone and tried calling him. It rang endlessly. I sent him a message too.

Where are you?

But there was no reply. I forced myself to stay calm. Ten minutes later, I called again. Still nothing. My grip around my phone tightened. He wouldn’t do this again. I knew he wanted to make things right between us. I knew he would come back.

I called again. And again. But still, no answer. No reply. No sign of him. Something inside my chest slowly cracked apart.

I looked up when a waiter refilled my glass with water after noticing I had emptied it while waiting.

“Would you like us to reheat the food, ma’am?” My eyes drifted toward the untouched dishes on our table.

“Maybe later,” I answered quietly. “I’m still waiting for my husband.”

The waiter gave me a strained smile before quietly walking away. I lowered my head, struggling to stop the tears gathering in my eyes. Why was it like this? Why did it still hurt so much no matter how hard I tried to understand him?

9:57 PM.

The restaurant was slowly emptying out. The violinist from earlier was already gone. The rooftop had fallen silent. Even the wind felt colder now.

I called Dave again. Voicemail. And at that moment, a part of me finally grew tired. Because waiting for someone who could never guarantee they would come back. Was exhausting.

Should I still believe his promises even when I was always the one left hurting in the end? A soft, bitter laugh escaped me as I wiped away the tears that finally slid down my cheeks. I was pathetic. When would I finally accept that this was who he really was?

I would always come second. Work would always come before me.

“Ma’am.” I looked up when the manager approached our table carefully. He offered me an apologetic smile.

“I’m really sorry, but we’re about to close.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered softly.

I stood up and grabbed my bag. Then I pulled cash from my wallet to pay for the food that had gone cold while waiting for Dave.

“Thank you for dining with us, ma’am. Please come back next time.” I gave the manager a faint smile. I wasn’t even sure there would be a next time anymore.

I walked out of the restaurant feeling like. Whatever feelings I still had left for Dave had been left behind there too.

Because hoping was painful. And forgiving someone who kept making the same mistakes over and over again.

Was even harder.