Dear Ex Wife Please take me back by The Every Woman

Chapter 23 ~ A perfect future doesn't exist

Chapter 23 - A perfect future doesn't exist

Athena

2

"Ohhh, I'm so glad you're better, my baby. I'm sorry | couldn't be with you as you checked out. Something came

up,” Giana says from her hospital bed, her warm smile easing sof the tension in my chest. | laugh softly. "I

can see that."

She looks tired but still elegant, her silver hair neatly pinned back, her frail hands resting on the blanket. The

monitors beep steadily beside her and my heart aches for her.

| sit beside her, reaching for her hand. She squeezes mine gently.

"I was worried about you," she says.

| glance down, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I'm fine, granny."

Her green eyes study me, the way only she can. "Liar."

| force a smile. "I learned from the best."

She chuckles, but there's sadness in it.

"That boy of mine... he loves you in his own way, you know. | know you two feel like

we had to force it upon you, but I trust my instinct. And it says you two make a perfect match."

I don't answer.

My heart swells as the

words from yesterday echo. He wished | had split my skull open just so | could save him the trouble and

tfor him to marry the love of his life.

That doesn't sound like a perfect match to me.

After a little while, |

help adjust her pillows, making sure she's comfortable. She tries to keepthere longer, but Alex enters.

"How's my favourite lady?" He walks over to her with a smile on his face.

It's not the first tI've seen him smile. He always pulls his walls down around his mother and grandmother.

How can someone who loves his mama and Nana so much be so cold?

Or is itthat repels him?

I watch as he

leans forward and places a soft kiss on her forehead. She smiles at him while placing her weak hands on each

side of

his face.

"You're going to be okay. I've made scalls. You'll get a transplant soon."

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"I'm 70, Alex. I'm tired. | don't want a transplant."

Alex's eyes are filled with fear and it's the first tI've seen

that feeling in his eyes.

"Nana." He warns.

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"| want to see you two becparents. If you wantto get a transplant, then have a baby." She argues and

Alex locks his jaw.

| hold my breath.

He hates the idea of seeingtied to him. | know that but it doesn't hurt any less.

"You know how | feel about that. That's not fair." He argues.

Giana looks at me, "My dear Athena, can you call Ryan for me?"

| nod. Wheeling my wheelchair out, but as | close the door, her next words stopcold.

"I know you've been meeting that Leah girl in secret. You need to get

your head together and focus on your wife. Alex." Her voice

is now hard.

"You know | love Athena. We make a perfect match. | simply met Leah for business." He responds dryly.

"Do | look stupid?" Giana retorts.

"Nana. | love you more than

you know. Stop worrying about what's not there. I'm married to Athena and you were

right, she's the perfect-wife." He places another kiss on her forehead.

"Then bringa child. | want to see her conceive!"

"We spoke about it and she mentioned that once she is done with school, we can start trying."

This bastard is lying with a straight face.

We've never had this conversation.

"You better not be lying, I'll curve your eyeballs out."

| don't wait to hear Alex's response.

| wheel myself away from the door, my hands

gripping the cold metal, my chest tight.

It shouldn't hurt.

| knew | know-that | mean nothing to him. That this marriage is just a name

on paper, a deal sealed with ink and obligation,

not love.

But hearing him speak, like we're so in love, does something to me.

He lied with a straight face all to protect Leah.

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A child?

With me? | laugh at the thought.

We've had sweak moments and have

had sex. But it was back to default settings

the next morning. He never used a condom but he always pulled out. No matter how

drunk he was. That toldexactly what | needed to know...

| don't stop moving until

| reach the waiting area, my breaths shallow. The walls feel like they're closing in, the weight of pretending is too

much.

| sit in the waiting area, my fingers digging into

the armrests of the wheelchair as | stare blankly at the pale hospital walls. The scent of chemicals in the air

burns my nose, but

it's nothing compared to the ache hollowing out my chest.

A child?

| laugh again—

a soft, bitter sound that draws a few curious glances from nurses passing by. The absurdity of Alex's lie still

echoes in my mind. He spoke so smoothly, so effortlessly, like

it was second nature to him. To weave a fantasy of a perfect marriage, a plan for children—

a future that doesn't exist.

My eyes finally snap to reality and | notice Ryan is waiting near the exit, scrolling

through his phone. He glances up when he sees me, straightening.

"You ready to go, Mrs King?" he asks.

Mrs King.

The nsends a bitter taste in my mouth.

Before | can answer, footsteps echo behind me.

Alex.

I don't look at him, but | feel him, the

air shifting as he moves closer. His presence is suffocating, commanding-

even without a

single word.

"We're leaving," he says.

| don't respond, just let him wheelforward. But as we reach the main doors, his phone buzzes.

He checks the screen. Something changes in his posture, his grip tightening on the wheelchair for a second.

Then, just like that, he stops.

"Ryan, take her home."

Three words. Dismissive. Detached.

| turn to look at him, but he's already walking away. Not a glance, not a single

hesitation.

| don't ask where he's going.

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| don't ask who he's going to.

Because | already know.

| close my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat.

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Ryan sighs, stepping behind the wheelchair.

He begins to move but doesn't say anything and frankly, I'm grateful for it.

The car ride his silent. My fingers twist in my lap, knuckles white as | clench them together, trying-failing-to

keep myself

from shattering.

The moment the car rolls

past the hospital gates, the lump in my throat unravels. A tear slips down my cheek, silent and scorching,

leaving a burning trail in its wake. | quickly wipe

it away, but another follows. And then another.

Ryan notices. His expression unreadable. It's not the first time

he's seencry so he doesn't speak.

I'm not okay. I'm nowhere close to okay.

We've never talked about children.

We've barely talked about anything that mattered.

And the few times we've been... intimate... he's always pulled away-

physically, emotionally. As

if the thought of being truly connected to me, in any way, repulsed him.

| know why we have to pretend but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

A strangled sob escapes my lips, and my hand flies to my mouth, as though | can somehow shove the sound

back

in.

Ryan glances at me, his voice soft. "Athena-"

"Please," | whisper, my voice cracking. "Don't."

Tears roll down my face as my shoulders shake while | cry.

He doesn't say another word.

The city blurs past the window, by the twe pull

up to the house, my tears have soaked the collar of my shirt, and my body

feels like it's been hollowed out.

Ryan steps out first, coming around to open my door. His hand hovers, unsure if he should say something but

thinks better of it

and keeps quiet.

I don't move.

"Athena," he says softly.

| finally lift my head, my voice hoarse. "I can't do this."

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Ryan's lips part like he's about to speak-but then he stops.

Because we both know the truth.

I married a man who doesn't love me.

And I'm slowly breaking under the weight of it.