Chasing His Divorced Wife

ELARA'S POV

"You invited him where?"

Maya's voice could probably be heard in the next county. I held the phone away from my ear.

"To the gallery. Tuesday night. You said you wanted to meet him."

"I said I wanted to punch him in the face. That's different." Maya paused. "Wait. Are you serious? He's actually coming?"

"He said he would."

"Elara Chen, have you lost your mind?"

I sat down on my couch, suddenly exhausted. "Maybe. Probably. I don't know anymore."

"What happened at Pike Place? You said you were going to tell him off and be done with it."

"I tried. But he just—" I struggled to find the words. "He's different, Maya. Or he seems different. I can't tell if it's real."

"Of course he seems different. He doesn't remember being an asshole. That doesn't mean he's changed."

"I know."

"But you're hoping anyway."

"I'm not hoping. I'm just—confused."

Maya sighed. "I'm coming over. Have you eaten?"

"No."

"I'm bringing Thai food. Don't argue."

She hung up before I could respond.

Forty minutes later, Maya arrived with enough Thai food to feed six people and a bottle of wine. She took one look at me and pulled me into a hug.

"You look awful."

"Thanks."

"I mean it with love." She released me and headed to the kitchen. "When's the last time you slept?"

"I sleep."

"Real sleep. Not that thing where you lie awake replaying your marriage."

I didn't answer. Maya knew me too well.

We ate in my living room, Maya updating me on her job at the architecture firm, her disaster of a date last week, anything but Damien. Finally, she set down her fork.

"Okay. Tell me everything about Saturday."

I did. The whole conversation, every painful detail. Maya listened without interrupting, which was unlike her.

"He asked if you loved him at the end," she said when I finished. "What did you say?"

"That I didn't know if I loved him or just the memory of who he used to be."

"Good answer." She refilled our wine glasses. "But what's the real answer?"

"I don't know, Maya. How am I supposed to know? Some days I hate him. Some days I miss him. Most days I just feel empty."

"And now? After seeing him?"

"Now I'm terrified." The admission came out as a whisper. "I'm terrified that he's different. That he's actually trying. Because if he can change, if he can become the person I needed him to be, then what does that say about our marriage? That he could have changed all along and just chose not to?"

Maya reached across and squeezed my hand. "Or it says that losing you was the wake-up call he needed. Some people don't change until they lose everything."

"That doesn't make it hurt less."

"No. It doesn't." She pulled back, her expression turning serious. "I'm still meeting him Tuesday. And I'm not going to be nice."

"I wouldn't expect anything else."

"Good. Because someone needs to make sure he understands what he did to you. You're too kind to really make him face it."

She wasn't wrong.

We finished the wine and Maya stayed over, like old times. She fell asleep on my couch while we watched terrible reality TV. I covered her with a blanket and went to my bedroom, but sleep wouldn't come.

My phone sat on the nightstand. I shouldn't look. I knew I shouldn't.

I looked anyway.

No new messages from Damien. He'd respected my boundary. That was something, at least.

But there was an email from James Hartley. Subject line: "You should know."

I almost deleted it. Almost.

"Elara,

I know I already called, but there's something I didn't tell you. After the accident, Damien fired his mother from the board. Cut her off completely. When she showed up at his hospital room, he had security remove her.

He found something. I don't know what. But whatever it was made him realize Victoria was involved in your marriage falling apart.

He's been trying to reach you all week to tell you, but I told him to wait. To give you space. I thought you should hear it from me first instead of from him in some desperate message.

I'm not saying this to manipulate you into giving him another chance. I'm saying it because you deserve to know that he's actually taking action, not just making promises.

— James"

I read it three times.

Damien had fired Victoria. The woman who'd controlled his entire life. The woman whose approval he'd chosen over me again and again.

My hands were shaking.

I shouldn't text him. It was nearly midnight. This could wait.

I texted him anyway.

"James told me about Victoria. What did you find?"

The response came within seconds.

"Can I call you?"

I stared at the message. Talking to him felt dangerous. But I needed to know.

"Yes."

My phone rang immediately.

"Hi." His voice was rough, like he'd been sleeping. Or not sleeping.

"Hi. What did you find?"

"Letters. In her office safe. She'd been keeping them."

"What kind of letters?"

"Yours. To me." He paused. "You wrote me letters, Elara. For two years. Telling me how you felt, asking me to try harder, begging me to see you. I never got a single one."

The room tilted. "What?"

"Victoria intercepted them. She also deleted your messages from my phone, changed my calendar invites, told me you'd canceled plans when you hadn't. She—" His voice cracked. "She systematically destroyed our marriage."

I couldn't breathe. "How many letters?"

"Forty-seven."

"Forty-seven." I repeated it, trying to make sense of the number. "I wrote you forty-seven letters and you never—"

"I know. I'm so sorry. I should have known something was wrong. I should have questioned why you stopped trying—"

"I never stopped trying!" The anger came out of nowhere, hot and sharp. "I tried for three years while you ignored me! And now you're saying it was your mother? That this whole time—"

"I know. I know it doesn't change what happened. But I needed you to know that I'm handling it. She'll never be able to hurt you again."

"You think firing her fixes this?" I was standing now, pacing my bedroom. "Damien, she stole years from us. She made me think I wasn't enough when really—" I stopped. "Did you read them? The letters?"

"Every one."

"And?"

"And they broke my heart." His voice was quiet. "You loved me. Really loved me. And I was so blind I couldn't see it."

I sank onto my bed. "This doesn't change anything."

"I know."

"Even if Victoria sabotaged us, you still made choices. You still chose work over me. You still forgot anniversaries and birthdays. You still made me feel invisible."

"You're right. And I'm not trying to make excuses. I just—you deserved to know the truth."

We sat in silence for a moment.

"Can I ask you something?" Damien said.

"What?"

"In the letters. Did you—was there ever a point where you fell out of love with me? Or did you love me until the end?"

The question hurt. "I loved you until it killed me to keep loving you. Until I had nothing left to give."

"And now?"

"Now I don't know what I feel. Except angry. I'm so angry, Damien. At you, at Victoria, at myself for not seeing what was happening."

"You should be angry. At all of us. Especially me."

"Stop agreeing with me. It's unsettling."

He laughed, surprising us both. "Sorry. The therapist says I need to validate people's feelings instead of getting defensive."

"You're in therapy."

"Twice a week. Dr. Reeves thinks I have anxiety and control issues stemming from childhood trauma. Apparently, having Victoria as a mother messed me up in some predictable ways."

"Shocking."

Another silence.

"I should let you sleep," he said.

"Yeah. Tuesday. Seven PM. Don't be late."

"I won't be. Elara?"

"What?"

"Thank you. For not hanging up on me."

I ended the call before I could say something I'd regret.

Maya appeared in my doorway. "Was that him?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And nothing. Everything. I don't know." I looked at her. "Victoria kept my letters. Forty-seven of them. I thought he didn't care, but he never even knew they existed."

Maya came and sat beside me. "That doesn't excuse what he did."

"I know."

"But it explains some things."

"Yeah." I leaned my head on her shoulder. "I'm so tired, Maya."

"I know, honey. I know.”