Sorry Ex I Don’t Want You Back Novel – On our anniversary, my husband gave me 99 rose. Getting off the operating table alone, I made a phone call and calmly requested a divorce from him.
On the other end of the phone, his girlfriend apologized in a sobbing voice. “Ms. Mitchell, it’s all my fault for acting on my own. Please don’t get angry with Mr. Mitchell.”
“Stop it, Nancy doesn’t know you hate roses. I won’t do it next time.”
Charles was busy, so busy that he needed his secretary to choose a gift for his wedding anniversary. Nancy Ashford was Charles’s childhood sweetheart. She had adored him since she was a child. As soon as she graduated from a prestigious university, she rushed to be his personal secretary.
They were so close that they even stayed in the same suite when they went on business trips. Actually, I did not blame Nancy for persistently following my husband.
A fly does not bite seamless eggs. If he did not give her the opportunity, no woman could get close to him. I yawned exaggeratedly, and tears seeped out of the corners of my eyes unconsciously.
Charles thought that the matter was over after not hearing my reply for a long time.
He asked his seven-year-old son about his recent exam rankings. I shook my head and answered, “I don’t know.” I did not mean to piss him off by deliberately not telling him. I really did not know. The Mitchell family placed great emphasis on higher education for its members. The boy was raised in the main house from a young age and was given various courses after coming home from school.
It was so funny to say that I was the one who gave birth to that boy, but my time to see him was only a handful of times. This was why I had cried and made a fuss, but the Mitchell family did not care at all.
In their view, being able to marry into the Mitchell family was due to my ancestors’ merits. As for the rest, it was pure delusion.
Charles pinched his high nose bridge and asked me to focus more on the child. “If this goes on, Nancy will be more like his mother than you.” I understood the meaning of his words. Yesterday was Friday. It was the only day I was allowed to pick up my son from school. I arrived an hour early, waiting until it was dark and the school gate was closed.
A few moments later, Nancy called me and informed me that Octavia Mitchell had asked her to pick up my son and go back to the main house for dinner. On the other end of the phone, I heard Charles’s voice. He was asking Nancy with a soft voice if she wanted a bowl of soup. Thinking back on all those scenes, I said to Charles with a fake smile, “That’s just what you want. I’ll leave right away. Let this so-called Ms. Mitchell do it.”
I did not know which word stabbed him, but he remained quiet for several seconds and suddenly became furious. “There is a limit to my patience. Selena, stop making trouble,” the man said as he stood up and took two steps. I said indifferently, “Ah, by the way, I forgot to tell you that I had a miscarriage.”
A month ago. On the night when he received a call from Nancy and hurried out to block the wine for her, I had unbearable abdominal pain and drove to the emergency department of the hospital by myself.
But I was told that I had been pregnant for more than two months, and the baby had lost its fetal heart rate and had already been biochemically induced.
The most ridiculous thing was that when I knew that the baby was gone, I was relieved.
Getting off the operating table alone, I thought it was time to end it. In the living room, Charles turned his back to me, held his wine glass tightly, and his fingertips turned white.
He did not question why I did not contact him. He knew very well how many times I called him that night. Unfortunately, there was no answer.
“It’s okay if it’s gone. The fact proves that you can’t be a good mother.”
Charles walked to the study and closed the door skillfully. Eight years of marriage, I did not know how many quarrels and disputes had occurred. They had been countless. I was always the one who apologized and solved the problems. However, this time, Charles never heard the humble knock on the door.
Half an hour later, he opened the door and searched through the huge house, but he could not see me again. On the day when the lawyer drafted the divorce agreement for me, I happened to receive a call from Charles. He told me urgently and gloomily, “My son is sick, come to the main house before six o’clock.”
Before I could ask what illness he had, the man had already hung up the phone. I printed out the agreement with a relieved smile. When I arrived at the main house of the Mitchell Family, I found out that all of the family members were there. They were having their usual family dinner and their son happened to be sitting between Charles and Nancy. From the perspective of outsiders, they were the true family of three.