My Ex-husband Cried and Begged for Remarriage

When we got to the garage, he said he'd drive. My foot hurt, so I didn't refuse.

Seeing me sit in the back seat, he was irritated. He asked, "Is the front seat poisoned?"

I rolled down the window to air it out.

There wasn't any poison, just a strong scent of Gianna's perfume.

Under Michael's gloomy gaze, I casually said, "You get queasy at the sight of blood."

This explanation seemed to calm him down.

"I accidentally spilled some perfume yesterday. The scent might be a bit strong."

After explaining, he handed me the half-used bottle of perfume.

"I made this myself. It was supposed to be a seventh anniversary gift, but I spilled half of it. If you don't mind, you can have it."

I wouldn't eat someone's leftovers. I wouldn't use someone else's perfume, and wouldn't take someone else's man.

I didn't take it or question him. I just directly refused.

"The blood's about to spill in the car. Can we go to the hospital faster?"

He shut up, realizing he wasn't going to get anywhere.

But he kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror, looking like he wanted to say something but held back.

When I closed my eyes, pretending to nap, he finally said, "My mom wants us to return today. Can you..."

He was afraid I'd reveal that Gianna had returned to the country.

I had already decided on a divorce. I didn't want to complicate things.

Especially since if his mom knew I was divorcing because of Gianna, it would only make the divorce harder.

After I nodded, Michael visibly relaxed.

The car was eerily quiet all the way to the hospital. For the first time, I didn't find the silence between us awkward. It was actually nice.

He squinted and dropped me off at the emergency room, then quickly rushed to the burn unit.

"I'll grab some medicine and come back to stay with you!

"Once it's done, we'll go back to see my mom together."

There was a car accident patient covered in blood in the emergency room. Michael got queasy and couldn't even open his eyes.

The doctor was busy with me for an hour.

But Michael never came to check on me.

Instead, his mom called to ask when I'd be arriving.

I pulled up Twitter and saw Gianna had posted a new status.

"I was overeating seafood and got a stomachache. Someone nearly freaked out, but the doctor said it's indigestion."

I glanced at the picture and saw that it was taken in the same hospital I was in.

Michael wouldn't be going back with me today.

I didn't want to face his mom's pressure to have kids alone, so I immediately made up an excuse not to go back.

When I left the hospital, my stomach was cramped since I hadn't had breakfast. I immediately felt nauseous.

I had to lean against the wall and dry heave. The cold sweat dripped from my forehead.

A doctor passed by and immediately helped me, asking, "Miss, are you alright?"

I shook my head and thanked her for her kindness, then asked where the restroom was and headed straight there.

And I met them just around the corner.

"You're an adult and still make people worry. You greedy thing, overate and now you feel awful!"

"Well, you made the seafood spaghetti so delicious. I almost wanted to eat the plate, too."

I saw Gianna looking at Michael like she wanted to devour him. I couldn't help but feel more nauseous.

Michael's lips curled into a doting smile.

"If you like my cooking, just call me anytime. But don't overeat again!"

Gianna looked up and saw me standing nearby. She smugly grabbed Michael's face and kissed him on the lips.

"Once stamped, no take-backs!"

Michael's hands, which I had pampered so carefully, had never cooked for me. Yet he was willing to be Gianna's personal chef anytime.

The power of a first love is truly destructive.

My stomach cramped painfully, and sweat trickled down my face.

I knew I looked utterly miserable at that moment.

I glanced at the restroom beside me, then at the couple gazing at each other. I chose to walk away.

But Gianna called out to stop me.

"Sofia? What are you doing here?"