My Ex-husband Cried and Begged for Remarriage

Gianna glanced at the dermatology clinic next to me and ran towards me.

Michael immediately reached out to support her waist.

"Slow down. Be careful not to twist your ankle," he said.

As the two approached, Gianna looked at me with disdain.

"Why are you running? Are you afraid we'll find out you have some shameful disease?" Gianna said. Her tone was mocking.

The smile on Michael's face disappeared the moment he saw me.

"Didn't I tell you to wait for me? What's the point of stalking me every day? Can't you control yourself even with an injured leg?" Michael said. His voice was cold.

I looked up at Michael. He seemed to be waiting for me to thank him.

Thank him for trusting that I didn't have some dirty disease.

Thank him for not giving shame to me in front of Gianna.

His face showed no trace of the panic or embarrassment of being caught in a lie.

Instead, it was full of cold reprimand.

My cold sweat at that moment seemed insignificant.

I walked past them. I headed straight for the restroom behind them.

Gianna suddenly blocked my way. Instinctively, I didn't want her to touch me.

As a result, when I lightly shrugged her off, she ended up falling to the ground.

Michael quickly grabbed Gianna, pulling her into his arms. At the same time, he pushed me to the ground.

"Sofia!" Michael shouted.

"Haven't you had enough?" he said. The anger was in his voice.

He didn't use much force, but my foot had just been stitched up. Now, the anesthesia had worn off. The pain was unbearable. I couldn't handle his push.

That light push made my world spin.

The pain from my stomach and foot spread to my abdomen, causing a dull ache. My temples throbbed.

I just wanted to get up and make it to the restroom to vomit.

I managed to get up with difficulty. But Michael grabbed my wrist, refusing to let me go.

"Apologize to Gianna!" he demanded.

His eyes were cold as ice, completely ignoring the fact that the bandage on my foot was soaked in blood.

I was in pain.

I used all my strength just to stand steady.

Holding back tears, I asked Michael to let go of my hand.

He gripped my wrist tightly. His strength was overwhelming.

My fair wrist immediately showed red marks from his grip, but I refused to lower my head.

"It's not my fault you can't control your dog," I said steadily.

"If you don't let go, I won't hesitate to tell everyone at the residence what you've been up to!" I threatened.

Michael let go of my wrist, but his eyes were red as he slapped me across the face.

"You bitch! How dare you!" he shouted.

He seemed to be brewing more harsh words.

But in the next second, I vomited uncontrollably.

I had reached my limit.

Michael was standing close, and he ended up with a lot of my vomit on him.

Compared to my pale face covered in cold sweat, the stains on his white shirt were much more embarrassing.

This brought me a bit of satisfaction.

But the tears continued to fall, brought on by the pain.

Michael saw me silently crying. My face was swollen and red. Surprisingly, he didn't lose his temper over the mess.

He seemed to forget Gianna was there, and instinctively moved closer to pat my back.

"How dare you drink so much last night? You probably gave yourself gastritis! You just can't go a day without causing trouble!" he said. His tone was softening.

The disgusting smell on him made me pinch my nose and step back.

Michael's hand hung in the air, and the concern on his face quickly faded.

"Sofia! I've been way too nice to you, haven't I?"

I ignored him and limped to the restroom to clean myself up.

Michael finally seemed to remember that my foot was injured.

A flash of guilt crossed his face as he followed me to the restroom door, trying to coax me.

"Alright, stop crying! Aren't you embarrassed to be crying at your age?

"I shouldn't have hit you. Let me take you to see a gastroenterologist. Stop making a scene, okay?"

This was the first time he had spoken gently to me since Gianna returned, like he was soothing a child.

But the more he talked, the more nauseous I felt. I couldn't help but retch again.

Michael was in a rare moment of panic. He didn't care that it was the women's restroom and rushed in to pat my back.

"Get out! Don't touch me!" I shouted. He slapped his hand away hysterically.

I pushed his hand away. My voice was shaking with anger.

He froze.

His gaze was full of surprise. It was quickly replaced by rage.

"Aren't you too old to be acting like this?

"You're my wife. You should act like it. If you can't, then let's get divorced!" he declared.