His Bad, Now He Wants His Alluring Ex-wife Back

ADELINE’S POV As Elena’s enthusiastic voice burst through our video call, a much-needed smile spread across my face. “Those earrings are perfect, Adeline! Absolutely gorgeous!” she exclaimed. But my choice of jewelry on this occasion wasn't just about looking stylish—it was part of my strategic attempt to reignite the spark in my troubled marriage. Two weeks of silence from my husband, Donald, had left me on edge. He had angrily stormed out of our home after a rift. Unsettled, I sent countless unanswered messages afterwards that fueled my growing anxiety, and I wondered if we had reached a dead end. But just last night, while I tossed around the bed, restlessness gnawing at me, his sudden text brought relief. The content of the message eased my frazzled nerves as I read it enthusiastically: “Hi Adeline, dinner tonight, 8:00 pm at home.” It was his typical way of communicating—straight to the point, no fuss. The word ‘home’ relieved me because I had begun to wonder if our home would forever echo with his absence, but his message revived hope. “I hope he likes that I have chosen to wear it. It was his first gift to me,” I said to Elena as my lips curled into another heartfelt smile. “Do as you wish, Adeline,” she replied warmly. “After all, Donald would always do what’s on his mind.” “Don't sound so harsh about him; he will change. He will do better,” I said to her, not convinced by my own words. “I’ve lost count of how often you said that,” Elena noted calmly. “I'm optimistic about it; he is just being a big baby.” “He undervalues you, Adeline. And it's baffling that you have never seen it the same way I see it. Well, I don't want to spoil your night. At least he doesn't lay his hands on you, and he's not a cheat.” Elena noticed the change in my mood when she made that remark, making her raise her brows suspiciously. “Or has he started cheating?” she asked, her tone laced with concern. I forced a reassurance, trying to convince myself as much as her. “Not at all, Elena. He's a good man. Maybe he's still… adjusting to marriage.” I didn't sound convincing, I knew. I wasn't sure of the answer myself, but I trusted him. “Adjusting? It's been three years, Adeline. And now, because of an accusation, he suddenly distances himself from you, ignoring you? He can't even protect you from his troublesome family.” I didn't want to defend him further; Elena would never warm up to my husband’s sometimes aloof nature. As a wealthy and successful CEO and the son of one of the richest men in the state, pomposity would be hard to conceal. Yet Elena wouldn’t consider this and understand why he exhibits certain traits. But I loved him regardless and saw beyond that. Beneath his authoritative exterior as a wealthy man, he concealed a vulnerable and affectionate individual, sadly suffocated by the manipulative influences of his family in our marriage, especially his mother. I believe that tonight we will talk things out and continue our married lives. I miss his presence already, and I couldn't wait for him to toss me in the bed after reconciliation. Even as I prepared, I felt whole again. My libido stirred, causing a tingly wetness in my pants. I longed to reconnect with him intimately, to feel his gentle touch and inhale his intoxicating body cologne. “I’ve gotta go, my darling. I'll call you later and let you know how it goes,” I promised Elena before ending the call. It was exactly ten minutes before his given time. I smacked my lips carefully one last time to give my lips the perfect look. I gave my reflection in the mirror a confident wink and took a deep, long breath. But beneath the optimistic thought of a peaceful reunion, a secret that I hadn't yet revealed to him bothered me—I was pregnant. Although he had reminded me repeatedly that it wasn't yet time for babies, I have failed him. “He is back, ma’am,” the soft whisper of Sonia, the chief housekeeper, echoed through the smart door. My heart jerked when she announced his presence, swirling my anxiety. Why was I feeling uneasy at the thought of him around? Maybe the memory of the train of events that got him storming out was trying to play tricks on me. I pressed the smart door open with the remote, letting Sonia in. “He is back? Where is he?” I asked when she stepped in, anxiety creeping into my tone. “He awaits you in the grand living room.” “I will be down in a jiffy. Sonia, I hope he will love the shrimp in champagne sauce.” “I believe he will, ma’am. You were meticulous about the preparation as usual,” she replied with a reassuring smile. I had taken tender care to see to the preparation of dinner. I applied my culinary expertise as a former chef to make him one of his favorite dishes, and I hoped the dish would tantalize his senses and make our reconciliation a memorable one. “Of course,” I responded, averting her gaze. I didn't want her to sense that I was anxious. Although considered a mere servant by Donald's family, she was the kindest person I’d met through Donald, and I trusted her words. I hastened, not letting my emotions get the better of me, and strode anxiously down the grand living room. Upon entering the room, I spotted him pacing, clad in a T-shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders. He stood tall as always. I slowed down to assess his disposition—he looked unsettled, not like someone who had come back home to stay. But I pushed my doubts aside because Donald was sometimes unreadable. His emotions often hid beneath the surface. Always trying to prove that he didn’t need me to be fine. “You’re h—o-ome,” I stuttered, approaching him cautiously. “Didn't Sonia inform you that I was here, Adeline? You kept me waiting,” he uttered, his tone laced with disdain as his eyes narrowed. I truly wasn’t expecting him to sound grumpy. “Did I? It is barely 8, sweetheart,” I replied gently. “I don’t have time to waste, Adeline. We need to get over this as quickly as possible.” “Dinner? Who hurries over dinner?” I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “What do you mean?” he asked with a stern tone, leaving me perplexed. “I-I - I thought we were having dinner together,” I stammered, struggling to sound steady. “I made one of your favorites.” “Diner?” He laughed, his tone filled with scorn. “Don’t be ridiculous, Adeline. Nobody in the family is happy with you. Why would I want to share dinnertime with you after your actions?” His voice stung with acidity, making me flinch. “What's going on, Donald? I thought the message was for reconciliation. I thought—” “What message?” “I received your message for dinner tonight.” “Are you hallucinating? Get a grip of yourself and cut the small talk.” I was taken aback by his response; resentment sat deep in his tone, and I wondered truly if I had been hallucinating. Or was he trying to joke around like he always did when we started out? “You know what? This whole thing called marriage was a mistake. I don’t think I will ever forgive you for going against our discussion,” he continued with a serious tone. I gasped, my breath hitching in my chest. It's been three years since we got married, and I've never heard him refer to our marriage as a mistake. We’ve had our bad days, but never has he referred to this marriage as a mistake. “None of it was my fault; I want to explain—” “I’m tired of hearing you defend yourself, Adeline. Your actions spoke for you. You abandoned my mother when she needed you most.” Tears formed at the corners of my eyes. It was unfair of him to accuse me of not caring for a mother he knew very well hated me. “You are not who I thought you were, Adeline, and unfortunately, your actions have brought destructive consequences to this marriage.” His words left a swirl of anxiety in my chest, the meaning unclear and unsettling.