After the Divorce, He Begged Me Back

Chapter 3

Elena’s POV

He must have seen the divorce papers by now. Why else would he call me after dropping over four missed calls?

“Hello?” Adrian’s voice cuts through the line, smooth and unbothered. A pang of disappointment hits me. Shouldn’t he at least be worried?

“Yes, Adrian?”

“Inadequate s*x?” His remark drips with sarcasm. I swallow hard, forcing myself to respond.

“Yeah.” I wrote that reason on impulse, still struggling to accept that Adrian was cheating on me. I needed a reason for the divorce, and if it angered him, so be it. He should have asked about the divorce instead of questioning my reasons.

“You’re a pathetic liar,” he sneers. “You’d get on your knees if it meant you would have s*x with me, that was how good I was, you know that. Your body wouldn’t lie.”

“Sign the papers. I’ll have my lawyers come pick them up.”

I feel exhausted—tired of his disrespect and disappointed by his lack of remorse, but still hopeful because I left.

“I’ll give you time to think,” he mocks. “You can’t possibly survive without me. Leaving a life of luxury to go farm? Have you lost your mind?”

I refuse to let his words affect me. “I can live well anywhere,” I retort, laughter escaping as I push back against his ridicule.

“You’ll regret it, Elena,” he warns before I hang up.

The train ride to the countryside lasts four hours, each minute filled with anxiety about facing my parents. They think I’m just visiting; they don’t know about the divorce, and I dread their reaction.

My mother has always disapproved of Adrian. To her, he was simply incompetent for her daughter. Facing her would be the hardest part. I brace myself for the ‘I told you so’ moment, but I know my father will welcome me.

When I finally step off the train, our family driver, Poker, is waiting. He leans against the car with his arms crossed, and my heart lifts at the sight of him.

“Poker!” I call, and he lowers himself to lift me off the ground, swirling me around like a little girl. My midsection aches, but I compose myself.

“Little Miss Moore!” he says, and I wrap my arms around him.

“It’s so nice to see you, Poker.”

He sets me down, his bright blue eyes scanning my face with concern. “Are you okay? You look tired. What happened to your head? Did you get into an accident?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” I say, lightly punching his shoulder. I don’t want to share just yet, so I look away and head for the car.

“Take me home, Poker. I miss my parents.” He nods, loading my boxes into the trunk without asking about my bruises or why I have so much luggage.

Poker knows when I need space, and it feels comforting to be around someone who truly sees me.

Adrian still has no idea I have bruises on my body, even after living together. He called today, and still he didn’t notice the obvious scar on my head. Or the tear on my lips, thats how much he didn’t see me.

When we arrive home, my parents are waiting. My mother is engrossed in papers at the dining table while my father rushes toward me.

Like a child, he lifts me up and spins me around. I can’t contain the pain, and a loud moan escapes my lips. He drops me, noticing my discomfort.

“What’s wrong?” I wince holding my belly.

“Did your husband do this?”

“No, no, accident.” I fought back.

“What accident?”

“Dad, a car collided with mine. It’s on the news somewhere.” I said, looking for somewhere to rest my back on.

“What of Adrian? He didn’t call me to tell me anything about it. Is there anything we need to know? he asks. I see my mother drop her papers and walk toward us. It’s the moment of confession.

“Divorce,” I say, locking eyes with my mother, bracing for the scolding I expect. But to my surprise, she seems sad? concerned Whatever it was, it was calm and rare to me.

“It’s good to have you home, Elena,” my father says, not acknowledging the divorce.

No scolding. No advice.

Their silence makes me want to talk more. My mother finally asks, “What are your plans after the end of your marriage?”

My mother’s disagreement with Adrian made her absent from my marriage, and my father’s support means everything. Adrian thinks I'm just the daughter of a washed-up ranch owner, but he’s wrong.

“I want to take some time off and have already resigned from my job,” I explain, the weight of my decision settling on me.

“There’s no reason for me to stay.”

My mother’s voice sharpens. “Is a divorce really enough reason to give up and retreat home to ‘rest’?” She says the word rest with disdain like it was a bad thing to want to relax.

I feel the sting of her words and fight to maintain my composure. My father steps in, noticing my discomfort. “You know we’ll support you, whatever choice you make.”

My mother shifts the conversation. “Remember your childhood? Those long summers at the vineyard and the ranch?”

Her words hit me like a wave. After entering Adrian’s world, I’d distanced myself from my family’s businesses.

“Don’t bore yourself with rest,” my mother continues. “You need to take control, but you won’t be forced to take over immediately.”

I know my mother had a way of showing concern, and her need to have me working was her way of letting me process the grief.

“There’s a small farm on the outskirts of the city that needs help. Manage it for three months. If it works out, great! If not, that’s fine too.”

Looking at my father, I see his unwavering support. My parents aren’t doing this for the money, they genuinely care.

So why not?

What better way to reconnect with my roots than to actually see and feel the land?

I nod in agreement, and my mother smiles. I’m tired of the corporate life, I miss the warmth of the soil, the sun, the smell of grass, and fresh air.

“Your room was prepared for you against your arrival. And take care of your injury, you look really bad,” my mother says, continuing to surprise me as I watch my father reach for my suitcases.

~~~~***~~~~

The news of my arrival back in town spreads quickly. The next day, Lily and Brad knock on my door, eager to hang out. We visit my mother’s bar, situated in our vineyard, our old hangout spot.

“Elena! You look really good,” Lily says.

If she had seen me yesterday, I doubt she’d say the same, but after a night’s sleep at home, I feel better.

Brad nods in agreement. “Yeah, we never thought we’d see you again. Who would have guessed Elena Moore would leave her city life to come see her little town friends?”

“Yes! This calls for celebration!” Lily exclaims, slapping her hands on the table. “Did your mom tell you about the new male models she added to the bar?”

“Lily!” I say, playfully shoving her.

Rolling her eyes, she continues, “They’re real models—Italian, fine men! Trust me, if you want to celebrate your divorce, you should do it the old-fashioned way. It’ll be like the bridal shower we never got to attend.”

Thinking of a bridal shower reminds me that I didn’t have one because I had no friends in the city. Stifling a smile, I pull out my credit card. My eyes catch the name—Adrian’s black card.

“Perfect,” I snicker, imagining how devious it would be to use his card for this.

“Hurray!” Lily cheers.

“Eight models!” I declare.

As the night unfolds with models performing and pulling me to dance, I let myself go and climb on stage, only to see Adrian walking into the club. My body goes cold.