Comeback of the Adored Ex‑Wife

Carly woke to a sharp, white light overhead and a dull, throbbing ache in her lower abdomen. It wasn't a nightmare. It was real.

A doctor in a standard white coat stood by her bed. He adjusted his clipboard as her eyes fluttered open.

"Carly, you're awake," he said, his tone clinical and grave. "You suffered a massive hemorrhage. We had to perform an emergency dilation and curettage. The surgery was successful, but you're going to need time to recover."

His words held no warmth, no comfort.

She ignored him, her own voice a dry rasp. "My babies..." A tiny, foolish flicker of hope still lingered in the back of her mind.

The doctor sighed, closing the file. "I'm sorry. We couldn't save them. Your only job now is to rest." His words were a command, not a suggestion.

A young nurse came in to change her IV drip. Her eyes, full of pity, met Carly's.

While the doctor stepped out to take a call, the nurse leaned in close. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "To lose both of them at once, especially when they were already fully formed... it's just awful."

"Both?" Carly's pupils contracted. She grabbed the nurse's arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "What did you say? My previous checkups always said it was a single pregnancy!"

The nurse flinched, startled by her intensity. "Y-yes... the ultrasound showed a boy and a girl. Fraternal twins. Didn't you know?"

A boy and a girl.

She had lost two babies.

The knowledge hit her like a physical blow, a second, more brutal impact. The room spun, and she thought she might pass out from the sheer weight of the pain.

Yet, surprisingly, she did not shed a single tear. The grief was too profound, hollowing her out from the inside. Instead of crying, a terrifying calm settled over her.

She requested the remains of her children from the hospital. Carefully, she placed the tiny, formless tragedies into a small black urn.

With steady, numb hands, she wrapped the urn in exquisite gift paper, tying it with a ribbon so it looked exactly like a beautiful "present".

Just before she was discharged, her phone buzzed. It was Julian's father, Alistair Carlisle. His tone usual arrogant command.

"Come to the old estate," Alistair ordered, his voice cold and expectant. "The chef is off today. I want you to cook dinner, and my suits need ironing. Make sure the house is spotless. Don't keep us waiting."He hung up before she could reply.

Lying back against the pillows for a brief moment, Carly felt a chilling realization wash over her. She remembered how she had married Julian Carlisle while pregnant, bending over backward to please his family. She had endured their scorn, hoping to earn her place. But to them, she was never a daughter-in-law. She was just an unpaid maid.

She scanned the empty room. Julian wasn't there. He was still with Devon, she was sure of it.

Returning to the Carlisle manor, the head nanny immediately shoved a basket of fresh ingredients toward her. "Mr. Carlisle wants dinner ready by seven," the nanny said haughtily, fully expecting Carly to take on her usual servant role.

For the first time, Carly ignored her. She didn't even glance at the groceries, turning on her heel and walking straight upstairs. Behind her, she could hear the nanny indignantly dialing Julian's number to complain about her sudden insolence.

Inside the cold, empty master bedroom, Carly stood still. She fumbled for her phone in her pocket.

The screen lit up, showing a photo of her and Julian. She was smiling, her face radiant with a happiness that now seemed like a cruel joke.

She looked up at the large wedding portrait hanging on the wall—a heavily edited, composite photo because Julian hadn't even bothered to show up for the shoot. Then, she looked down at the "gift-wrapped" black urn resting in her arms.

She stared at it for a long moment, then let out a dry, humorless laugh.

Her fingers scrolled through her contacts, pausing on a single name.

After a long hesitation, she pressed the call button.

When the line connected, she summoned every ounce of strength she had left. "Hamza," she said, her voice clear and steady. "It's me, Carly. I'm ready... I want to go back."