My Ex Husband Wants Me Back

The Letter

By the fourth day at Sarah’s house, Mara had started waking before Noah.

She would lie still on the narrow bed Sarah had given her and listen to the quiet sounds of the house. The floorboards creaked whenever Sarah moved through the hallway. The pipes groaned when she ran water in the kitchen. Birds gathered near the front window in the early morning, making enough noise to wake Noah if the curtains were open.

It was not the life Mara had known with Adrian.

Sarah’s house was small. The paint on the walls had faded in places. The kitchen table had a mark from where Sarah once set down a hot pot without thinking. The sofa in the living room had a tear near one arm that Sarah kept covering with a blanket.

Mara loved every part of it.

Nothing there made her feel as though she had to be careful. Nothing there reminded her that she was living inside a house paid for by a man who could decide, in one cold conversation, that she no longer belonged in it.

Still, she had not unpacked.

Her suitcase stood near the bedroom wall. Noah’s suitcase remained closed beside the small bed Sarah had set up for him in the room next to hers. Mara told herself that there was no reason to unpack because they were only staying for a few days.

Adrian had said they would talk.

He had not called.

Noah asked about him every morning.

The first day, he asked when they would go home. The second day, he asked whether Adrian was working too much to call. On the third day, he took out the drawing he had made and asked Mara whether she thought Adrian had looked at it yet.

Mara had told him that she did not know.

She hated that those were the only honest words she had left.

That afternoon, Noah sat at the kitchen table with Sarah, colouring in a picture of a dragon. Sarah had made him hot chocolate even though it was not cold outside, because Noah had asked for it and she knew he was trying not to look sad.

Mara stood at the sink, washing a plate that was already clean.

She had been holding it beneath the running water for too long when Sarah noticed.

“Mara.”

Mara looked up.

Sarah sat across from Noah with a crayon in her hand. Her face was gentle, but there was worry in her eyes.

“You can leave that plate now.”

Mara turned off the tap.

“I am fine.”

Sarah did not argue. She rarely did when Mara said those words. Instead, she looked toward the front window, where rain had begun to gather against the glass.

“Has Adrian called today?”

Mara shook her head.

“Not today.”

“Has he called at all?”

Mara dried her hands slowly with the towel beside the sink.

“He sent one message the first night. He asked whether we got here safely.”

“And after that?”

“Nothing.”

Sarah’s mouth tightened.

Mara did not want to talk about Adrian in front of Noah. She could see him listening even while he coloured. He had learned to become quiet whenever adults spoke in low voices.

Before Sarah could say anything else, a loud engine stopped outside the house.

Noah looked up.

“Is that Daddy?”

Mara’s heart tightened.

She walked to the window.

A delivery truck stood in front of Sarah’s gate. Two men were stepping out of the back. One of them carried a clipboard. The other looked toward the house, then down at the address written on a piece of paper.

Mara knew before she opened the door.

She did not know how she knew, but she did.

Sarah came to stand beside her.

“What is it?”

Mara stared at the truck.

“I think it is from Adrian.”

The doorbell rang.

Noah slid down from his chair. “Did Daddy send something?”

Mara turned quickly. “Stay inside with Aunt Sarah, sweetheart.”

“But I want to see.”

“I know. Just stay here for one minute.”

Her voice came out softer than she felt. Noah nodded, but his eyes followed her as she walked toward the front door.

The rain had become heavier by the time Mara stepped outside. The man with the clipboard held it beneath the shelter of the porch.

“Mrs Moretti?”

Mara looked at him.

“Yes.”

“I need your signature for the delivery.”

“What delivery?”

He glanced toward the truck.

“Personal belongings from the Moretti residence.”

The words seemed to leave the air colder around her.

Mara looked past him.

Inside the truck were several large boxes. At first, Mara only stared at them, unable to understand why they had been brought to Sarah’s house.

Then she recognised the labels.

Her name had been written across the sides in black marker.

The boxes came from Adrian’s house.

A cold feeling moved through her stomach.

“What is in them?” she asked, though her voice was already beginning to shake.

The delivery man looked down at his clipboard. “I was told they contain your personal belongings, Mrs Moretti.”

Mara looked back at the truck, at the boxes being carried out one after another, and felt fear begin to rise inside her. She still did not know why Adrian had sent them. She only knew that somebody had entered the rooms where she had lived and touched the things she had left behind.

Sarah came outside behind Mara. She wrapped an arm around herself against the rain and looked at the truck.

“What is this?” she asked.

Mara could not answer.

The man held out the clipboard again. “I am sorry, Mrs Moretti. I only need a signature.”

Mara took the pen.

Her hand shook as she signed her name.

The delivery men carried the boxes into Sarah’s living room. One by one, they placed them against the wall beneath the window. There were more than Mara expected. Boxes filled with clothes, shoes, books, photographs, and pieces of a life Adrian had removed from his house as neatly as someone clearing a room after a guest had gone.

The final box was smaller.

The man with the clipboard placed it on top of the others and handed Mara a thick white envelope.

“Mr Moretti asked that you receive this with the delivery,” he said.

Mara held the envelope without opening it.

He lowered his eyes. “I am sorry.”

Then he left.

The sound of the truck driving away seemed too loud on the quiet street.

Sarah closed the front door and turned toward Mara.

Noah stood near the kitchen entrance. He was holding the blue crayon he had been using, but he had stopped colouring.

“Did Daddy send all those boxes?”

Mara heard him, but she could not answer.

The delivery men had placed the boxes against the wall so neatly that they looked almost harmless. Yet all she could see were the things Adrian had chosen to send away. Her clothes. The books she kept beside the bed. The photographs she had put on shelves because she wanted the house to feel more like home.

She imagined the bedroom upstairs at Adrian’s house with her side of the wardrobe empty. She imagined the drawer beside the bed without her things in it. She imagined someone carrying box after box down the staircase while Adrian stayed in his office and allowed it to happen.

Her stomach tightened.

“Mommy?” Noah asked again.

Mara looked down at him, but her thoughts were moving too quickly for her to find the right words.

Sarah came to her side and gently took Noah’s hand.

“Why do you not come with me to the kitchen, sweetheart?” she said. “You can help me put more marshmallows in your hot chocolate.”

Noah looked at Mara, frightened now.

Mara tried to smile, but her lips would not move properly.

“Go with Aunt Sarah,” she whispered. “I will come soon.”

Noah hesitated before following Sarah. He looked back once more as Sarah led him away.

Mara watched him disappear into the kitchen. The living room was suddenly quiet except for the rain against the windows.

Then she looked down at the envelope in her hand.

Her name had been typed across the front.

Mara Moretti.

The handwriting beneath it was Adrian’s.

Open this.

That was all he had written.

No explanation. No apology. No question about Noah.

Mara slid her finger beneath the seal.

The first page was a letter from a lawyer. The words were formal and distant. They stated that Adrian Moretti had begun divorce proceedings and that the enclosed documents required her response.

Mara read the sentence twice.

Then a third time.

Her hands began to shake.

She turned the page.

The papers listed her name, Adrian’s name, the date of their marriage, and the address of the house they had shared. Every private part of her life had been reduced to printed lines and legal terms. There were pages about money, property, custody arrangements, and agreements that would decide where Noah lived and when Adrian could see him.

Mara could not read any further.

She sat down on the floor beside the boxes.

For days, she had been telling herself that Adrian needed space. She had replayed his words and tried to make them sound less cruel. She had thought that maybe he would call once he had calmed down. Maybe he would ask them to come home and finally speak honestly about everything that had gone wrong.

But Adrian had never wanted to talk.

He had wanted her gone.

The front door opened behind her.

Sarah had returned from the kitchen. Mara heard her footsteps stop, then felt her sister sit beside her on the floor.

“What did he send?” Sarah asked quietly.

Mara held out the first page.

Sarah read it.

Her face changed.

“He is divorcing you?”

Mara nodded, but she could not speak.

Sarah placed the papers on the floor and pulled Mara into her arms.

Mara leaned against her sister and cried.

She cried for the young woman who had believed Adrian’s promises. She cried for the years she had spent trying to become smaller so he would love her again. She cried because he had sent the papers without even calling her first. Most of all, she cried because Noah was in the next room, waiting for someone to explain why his father had packed up their lives and sent them away.

Sarah held her until Mara’s breathing slowed.

“You do not have to sign anything today,” Sarah said. “You do not have to make one decision while you are hurting like this.”

Mara wiped her face.

“He sent every part of my life here.”

Sarah looked at the boxes.

“He sent what was in his house. That does not mean he sent your life.”

Mara wanted to believe her.

A small sound came from the doorway.

Both women looked up.

Noah stood there with his dinosaur in one hand. His eyes moved from Mara’s face to the papers on the floor.

“Mommy?”

Mara got up quickly and went to him.

He looked frightened when he saw her crying again.

“Why are you sad?”

Mara knelt in front of him and took both his hands.

“Daddy sent some papers for adults,” she said. “They made Mommy sad, but Aunt Sarah is here, and I am all right.”

Noah looked toward the boxes.

“Does Daddy want us to stay here?”

Mara’s throat tightened.

She could not tell him that his father had chosen divorce. She could not tell him that Adrian had placed legal papers beside Mara’s clothes and sent them to another house as though their family could be packed into cardboard.

So she pulled Noah into her arms.

“We are going to stay here for now,” she said softly. “You and I are together. That is what matters.”

Noah held her tightly.

“Can we call Daddy?”

Mara closed her eyes.

“Yes,” she whispered. “We can call him.”

She took out her phone and pressed Adrian’s name.

The call rang once.

Then twice.

Then three times.

Noah stood beside her, watching the screen.

Adrian did not answer.

The call went to voicemail.

Mara lowered the phone slowly.

Noah looked up at her. “Maybe he is busy.”

Mara forced herself to smile.

“Maybe.”

But as she held her son close beside the boxes Adrian had sent, Mara understood something she had refused to face until that moment.

Adrian had not sent her away for a few days.

He had sent her away for good.