100 Days with My Ex-husband

Chapter 7: Distraction

I shook my head, the confusion thickening inside me. He didn’t owe me anything, but yet here he was, offering me kindness, support—things I didn’t deserve and wasn’t sure how to accept.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to steady myself, but then I remembered. I remembered what he told me last night.

“I’ve been broken too, Nora.” His words echoed in my mind, clearer now than they had been in the fog of that conversation. I had forgotten in the rush of everything, but now, in the stillness of the moment, the truth hit me again. Vincent wasn’t just the calm, composed man I saw before me. He, too, had been shattered. His wife had left him for another man.

The memory was a jolt to my system, and I felt a rush of guilt. How could I have forgotten?

I swallowed hard, the weight of my question—Why?—still hanging on my tongue, but this time, I added something else. "I’m sorry," I whispered, my voice shaking. "I shouldn’t have forgotten. You’ve already told me. You’ve been through the same thing. You know what it feels like to be betrayed."

Vincent didn’t respond right away. Instead, he studied me quietly, as though gauging whether my apology was truly for him or just another part of this tangled mess of emotions I was trying to untangle. After a long pause, his voice was soft but certain.

“You don’t need to apologize, Nora,” he said, his tone gentle. “I know this is hard for you. I know it’s hard to trust anyone after everything you’ve been through.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. The weight of my own pain seemed heavier now, knowing that Vincent had felt it too. He understood. And maybe that was why he was here, trying to help me. Maybe that was why he was offering me his kindness, his protection—because he knew how it felt to have everything you thought you knew about love and trust crumble to dust.

“Why are you here?” I asked again, the question feeling more fragile now, as though I was finally starting to understand but couldn’t quite connect all the dots.

“You don’t owe me anything, Vincent. You’ve been through hell too.”

His expression softened, and I saw that vulnerability that had been buried underneath his calm demeanor. For a moment, he seemed almost hesitant, like he was deciding how much to reveal, how much to share. And then he spoke, his voice quiet but resolute.

“I told you last night, Nora. I don’t want you to go through this alone. I know what it’s like to feel empty. To feel like you can’t breathe because the world just... turns upside down on you.” He took a deep breath, his eyes steady on mine.

“I’m not asking for anything in return. I just... I just don’t want you to have to carry this weight alone.”

My heart twisted in my chest, the truth of his words hitting me harder than I expected. The anger and betrayal I’d been holding onto were still there, raw and painful, but now, for the first time, I understood why he had stayed. It wasn’t because he was obligated or because he wanted something from me—it was because he saw me, saw my pain, and he didn’t want me to face it alone.

"I know you’re angry," he continued, his voice steady but gentle.

"I know it feels like the world is crumbling around you, and maybe it still will. But you don’t have to fight it by yourself."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, my eyes burning. It was almost too much—his kindness, his understanding. It was everything I didn’t know I needed.

“Let’s go,” I said and he just nodded and stepped inside the car.

Finally, we pulled into my driveway, and the car came to a soft stop. I hesitated, fingers gripping the seatbelt, unsure of what to do next. The silence between us had grown thick, the air heavy with unspoken words.

“Thanks for driving me home,” I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Vincent glanced over at me, his eyes soft but unreadable. “It’s the least I could do.”

I nodded, but there was still a gnawing restlessness inside me, a feeling of being unsettled. He had been kind—too kind, in fact. And that kindness felt like a lifeline, but also a weight I wasn’t sure I was ready to bear.

“I… don’t want to be alone right now,” I said, the words coming out before I could stop them. It surprised me, even as I spoke them. I didn’t want to burden him, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed someone here.

Vincent’s gaze flicked to mine, his lips pressed together in a thin line. “Nora, you’ve been through a lot today. I think you need some time to process everything. Liquor won’t solve anything.”

I opened my mouth to argue but closed it again. I knew he was right, but my mind felt like a storm—raging, unpredictable, and aching for some way to drown out the chaos. “I’m not looking to solve anything,” I said, my voice more stubborn than I intended. “I just need to feel... something else. Even if it’s just for tonight. A drink..”

Vincent was silent for a moment, his gaze locked on mine. I could see the concern in his eyes, the reluctance. But then, with a slow sigh, he opened the car door.

“Fine,” he said, his voice low and almost reluctant. “But I’m not letting you drink alone.”

I managed a small, thankful smile, though I wasn’t sure if I was truly grateful or if I just didn’t want to be left alone with my thoughts.

We got out of the car, and I led him to the front door, the sound of my heels clicking on the pavement making the night feel even quieter than it already was.

Inside, the house felt too big, too empty. I tried not to let the loneliness creep in, but it was hard not to. Vincent followed me into the living room, and I made my way to the kitchen, already reaching for a bottle of wine. I wasn’t sure what I needed, but this... this felt like the only thing that would fill the space inside me, even if only temporarily.

I poured two glasses, the rich red liquid swirling inside each one. I handed one to Vincent, my hand lingering as I passed it to him. He didn’t take it right away, just stared at it, the glass shimmering under the kitchen lights.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said again, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s not the answer, Nora.”

I shrugged, my eyes not meeting his. “I’m not asking for answers. I just need a distraction. For one night. I just can’t think anymore.”

He didn’t say anything, but after a beat, he took the glass from my hand, his fingers brushing against mine. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt of warmth through me.

We sat down at the kitchen table, each of us lost in our own thoughts. The silence stretched on, more comfortable now, though still heavy. I took a sip of wine, the bitter taste coating my tongue, and it did, in a way, make me forget for a moment. But it wasn’t enough to quiet the questions, the uncertainty.

Before I could take another drink, the sound of the front door opening reached my ears, followed by the unmistakable voice of my best friend.

“What are you two doing?” she asked, raising an eyebrow with a sly grin, clearly enjoying the scene.

“Are you dating now, or should I start asking for details?”

I froze, the glass halfway to my lips. Emily.