My Husband's Ex-girlfriend Provoked Me

As we entered, a waiter recognized us immediately, greeting us with a smile. “Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Douglas! It’s been a while since we’ve seen you both.”

I could see that Lilian’s expression was darkened when she heard that. So, she directly grabbed Gale’s arm, as if declaring if he was mine at that time.

That gesture confused the waiter, but Gale did not seem to notice. He simply requested, “Table for four, please.”

“Right this way,” the waiter replied, leading us to a familiar table, ignoring the scene that happened between us.

The truth was, that restaurant was one of Gale’s favorites because the steak was cooked tableside, allowing diners to watch or even cook it themselves.

It was something he had always insisted I do, never mentioning that it had once been a ritual he shared with Lilian.

As the grill heated up, Gritte moved to show off, grabbing the cooking tongs with a confident smirk. “I’m actually pretty good at this, you know. I just don’t like cooking unless I have to. Let me show you all.”

She flipped the steak expertly, creating a dramatic sizzle as the juices hit the hot grill.

Everything seemed fine until the oil from the meat began to drip onto the coals, causing the flames to flare up unexpectedly.

Lilian jumped, startled, and in her panic, accidentally knocked over the grill, scattering hot embers in all directions.

The embers flew toward Lilian and me, both of us seated closest to the grill. Gritte managed to dodge just in time, having noticed the oil drip seconds before.

But before I could even react, Gale had already sprung into action, scooping Lilian up in his arms.

His voice was filled with panic as he shouted to the waiter, “Call an ambulance! She’s been burned, this is serious.”

My skin stung from where the embers had landed on me, but Gale’s focus was entirely on Lilian. He did not even glance my way and did not seem to notice that I was hurt too.

For him, there was only Lilian in that moment.

As I sat there in silence, my hand instinctively brushed over the small burns on my arm, the pain sharp and immediate.

The waiter, who had been rushing to get help, glanced at me and noticed my discomfort. “Mrs. Doughlas, are you alright? Do you need medical attention?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Gale’s voice cut through the air as he cradled Lilian closer, brushing a soothing hand over her hair.

“Make sure she’s taken care of quickly,” he ordered, his tone filled with urgency.

The waiter looked back at me, hesitating, unsure who to prioritize.

Seeing his confusion, I forced a small smile. “I’m fine. Just…please help her first.”

Gale shot me a brief, dismissive glance, as if finally realizing I was there.

“Rachel, if you’re hurt, deal with it. Just don’t make a scene,” he muttered, his voice cold.

I felt a pang in my chest, but I managed to keep my expression calm. “I wouldn’t dream of making a scene, Gale.”

He gave a curt nod, dismissing me as he returned his full attention to Lilian, gently guiding her outside as they waited for the ambulance.

Gritte stood nearby, visibly annoyed. “Great, now our night is ruined,” she muttered under her breath, not sparing a single glance at me.

Once they were out of sight, I finally allowed myself to wince, feeling the burn marks sting along my arm.

The waiter noticed and returned with a cold compress, looking at me with sympathy. “Here, ma’am. This should help.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, pressing the cold cloth against my skin, grateful for his kindness in the absence of any from the people I had once called family.

I secretly muttered, “This is the last time I will ever be ignored.”

After leaving the restaurant, I took a taxi straight to the hospital, my hand stinging from the burns I had endured in silence.

In the emergency room, the doctor examined my wound carefully.

“You’re lucky,” he said, cleaning the affected area. “It’s not too deep. With proper care, it should heal in a few days.”

“Thanks, doc.”

However, as I waited to pay, I overheard two nurses chatting nearby, their voices low but audible. “Did you hear? Mr. Douglas booked an entire floor for Lilian and brought in specialists for her consultation.”

I could not help the bitter smile that crept onto my face. He had never gone to such lengths for me, even when I had needed him most.

Shaking off the thought, I handed my credit card to the receptionist, only for her to frown and hand it back to me. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but this card has been blocked.”

I glanced down at the card, realizing it was one Gale had issued me. He must have already seen the divorce papers and decided to cancel it as punishment.

“Oh, sorry, my mistake.” I forced a smile, handing over my personal card, the one that held the savings I had managed to accumulate from selling my artwork.

‘Habit is a powerful thing,’ I thought, a small shiver running through me.

For years, I had relied on Gale’s provisions, but then I saw how fragile that dependency really was.

With my hand freshly bandaged, I returned to the manor, determined to avoid Gale and Lilian, who would be spending the night at the hospital.

The staff, seeing the bandage, looked at me with concern, but I waved it off.

“It’s just a small injury,” I assured them. “Please, don’t worry and I apologize for disturbing you so late.”

As I woke up the next morning, a soft chime on my phone interrupted me. I glanced at the screen, barely containing a gasp.

It was an admission notice from the Arts Academy in Italy, confirming my acceptance. The school requested that I submit an artwork as part of the final requirements.

The thrill of it overpowered everything else. I wasted no time.

Grabbing my art supplies, I made my way to my car. The driver offered to take me, but I declined, feeling a surge of independence.

I drove to the RISD Museum, seeking inspiration among the art and history that had once captivated me.

The hours melted away as I sketched and painted, losing myself in the process on my studio.

For the first time in ages, I felt free, as if the weight of my marriage had lifted, allowing me to breathe and create without boundaries.

With each brushstroke, I felt a part of myself returning, a part I had long abandoned in Gale’s shadow.

I was so absorbed that I had not realized night had fallen until my phone rang, shattering the peace of the studio.

I glanced at the caller ID. It was Gale.

A flicker of annoyance made me answer. “What’s the matter?”

“Where are you?” His voice was sharp, laced with irritation. He must have returned home, expecting to find me there, sitting dutifully at the dinner table.

“Wherever I am is none of your business, Mr. Douglas,” I replied, my tone icy.

His silence was brief, but I could practically feel his anger crackling through the line. “How long are you going to keep up this tantrum, Rachel? Is this about the credit card?”

He scoffed, “If it really is, you should stop playing games with these divorce papers. We both know you can’t survive without me.”

I took a steadying breath, steeling myself before I replied. “In fact, I can.” And with that, I hung up, blocking his number without a second thought.

Moments later, a message appeared on my screen.

[Gale: Come back right now, or I will drag you home.]

I typed my response without hesitation.

[Rachel: Never.]

And with a final, liberating swipe, I blocked his contact.