Dear Ex, You Are Late!

Chapter Three

My phone started ringing just as I got off the train. The doors slid shut behind me with a soft mechanical hiss, cutting off the noise of the platform. The familiar scent of dust and grass moved through the air, and for the first time in days, my chest loosened, just a bit..Adrain Cole.

I had changed his name on my phone yesterday, replacing it with this. Cold. Neutral. Final.

I stared questioningly at his name on the screen for a second longer than I should have before answering.

“What do you want?” I asked.

My voice sounded calm and detached. I was almost proud of that.

There was a brief pause on the other end, then a sharp breath. “So you really left.”

“Yes.”

“You think that little trick on the divorce agreement is funny?” There was something that sounded like mockery in his tone. “Zahra, have you lost your mind?”

I adjusted my grip on my suitcase handle and began walking toward the exit. “It got your attention, didn’t it?”

“That’s all you care about?” he smirked. “You can’t even survive on your own. You left everything behind just to go back and do what? Farm?”

I smiled faintly. Not because it was funny but because I was tired of explaining myself.

“I can live anywhere,” I said. “That was true before I met you, and it’s still true now.”

“Don’t regret this,” he said coldly. “I won’t come looking for you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

I hung up before he could say anything else.

The air outside felt different, cleaner and maybe lighter. My parents’ driver was already waiting. Immediately I saw my father standing nearby, waving awkwardly; something in my chest tightened.

Home.

My mother was exactly as I remembered her: composed, sharp-eyed, and standing straight as if she were still in a boardroom instead of the living room. My father, on the other hand, smiled gently the moment he saw me, his blue eyes creasing at the corners.

“You’ve lost weight,” he said immediately.

“I’m fine,” I replied, though my voice wavered slightly.

We sat down together. The atmosphere felt… careful.

“I’m divorced,” I said.

The words hung there. Thick in the air.

I waited for my mother’s reaction. For the disappointment. The sharp comment. For the record, she had never approved of my marriage, not because Ethan wasn’t successful enough, but because she’d never believed in secret compromises.

It was beyond her belief, she had told me three years ago when I made the most important decision of my life that I was going to regret it. I snapped at her, accusing her of not wanting my happiness but see where it landed me. She was correct, making me think that maybe she was a prophetess.

But she only looked at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable.

Then she said nothing.

It was almost worse than anger.

My father cleared his throat. “It’s good you’re home,” he said gently. “What are you planning to do now?”

“I resigned,” I replied. “My project was taken over, and my supervisor wouldn’t give me a clear answer, so there was no reason to stay.”

My mother finally reacted. “So divorce was enough to make you give up everything and retreat home to rest?”

Her words were sharp, but not cruel. Still, they hit their mark deeply. I lowered my gaze.

Before I could respond, my father spoke again, his voice steady. “She’s home. That’s what matters. She can decide the rest later.Let her rest now.”Silence followed. It was unlike her to let the issue slip but I was more than grateful for that, I was already drained as it was.

My mother sighed quietly and changed the subject. She spoke about the vineyard, about the ranch, and about how I used to spend summers running through the fields instead of hiding in conference rooms like she wanted. I could see the stars in her eyes, how they shone as she talked about what she liked.

I realized then how deliberately I had distanced myself from all of it, how eager I’d been to fit into Ethan’s polished world, and how determined I’d been to erase the parts of me that didn’t belong there.

“You’ll eventually need to reconnect with the family business,” my mother said calmly. “But not immediately.”

She paused, then added, “I’ll give you a trial.”

She explained about a small farm on the outskirts of the city, poor management, and constant losses. “Three months,” she said. “Turn it around. If you succeed, we’ll talk again. If you don’t, you’ll understand why experience matters.”

I thought about it carefully.

Corporate life has drained me. This, this felt real and different, maybe.

“I’ll do it,” I said.

My mother nodded. “And take care of your injury. You don’t have to endure things alone anymore.”

The next day, before I even reached the farm, two familiar faces appeared.

Lina, who is now a dentist, is still loud and unapologetic. And Mark, tanned and smiling, fresh from teaching surfing lessons. We’d grown up together; we were just about inseparable back then before I… “This wasn't the time to think about that,” I reminded myself.

“Zahra,” Lina shrilled voice was enough to break me out as she threw her arms over my shoulders.

“You look terrible,” She said bluntly. “Which means it’s time to drink.” I shook my head lightly, already knowing this was where she was leading the discussion to.

They dragged me out before I could protest.

The bar belonged to my mother’s vineyard. Warm lights, rich wine, laughter spilling easily from every corner. For the first time since the accident, I felt like I could breathe.

“Order male models,” Lina suggested, grinning.

“No,” I said almost immediately.

Then I paused.

Adrain's card was still in my wallet.

“Fine,” I said, surprising even myself. “Eight.”

Laughter erupted around the table.

And then, everything went quiet. I felt it before I saw him.