Dear Ex Wife Please take me back

ATHENA

"I'll be on the other side as I wait for the final parade. It was a pleasure to meet you miss....."

"Dawson." I respond. Unsure if it's a good idea from how Alex is staring daggers at Arnold who looks unbothered.

"Thank you for inviting me over, Alex." The woman speaks right after the creep

walks away.

"You're welcome." He responds in a tone ive never heard him use on me.

My fingers curl into fists in my lap, nails pressing into my palms as the scent of vanilla wraps around me like an unwelcome embrace.

She stops beside Alex, a soft, knowing smile playing on her lips, and I watch their silent exchange.

"Athena." She finally acknowledges with a smile so plastic, a Barbie doll has nothing on her.

"Hello." I respond, keeping my voice neutral in case I'm wrong about her.

She knows my name while I don't, and it unsettles me.

"I heard what happened to you," she says, her voice full of concern, and I almost raise my brow. "I'm sorry about that."

I force a polite smile, even as her words dig under my skin.

"No need to be. I'm now perfectly fine, thanks to my caring husband." I offer her a smile of my own and her eye twitches.

"That's wonderful. Alex is a caring man, indeed." she continues, her brown eyes scanning my face as if expecting me to cower.

Not happening, sister.

"My name is Leah."

Leah.

The name sits heavy in my chest.

I nod stiffly. "Nice to meet you... again."

She lets out a quiet laugh, the sound delicate, reserved, and poised. Then, without hesitation, she takes the seat on Alex's other side, leaning in like it's second nature.

I watch as her hand skim the fabric of his suit sleeve, as if she has every right to touch him. She laughs at nothing he's said, but he tolerates her, which tells me all I need to know.

She's the other woman.

Alex doesn't move away.

He doesn't acknowledge her touch.

But he doesn't push her aside either.

Something in my chest tightens, sharp and suffocating.

I grip the edge of my seat, pushing myself up.

"I need to use the bathroom," I say, my voice even.

I don't wait for a response.

I turn and walk away, each step careful, steady.

But inside?

Inside, I am unraveling.

The moment I step away, my chest tightens as though a band is wrapped around my ribs, squeezing tighter with each breath.

The scent of vanilla still lingers in my nose, and I blink rapidly to keep the burn behind my eyes at bay.

I hate that I have blanks in my head, so I don't know what the hell is going on, but

I know that my marriage is not only a secret, but i fear he loves another.

So why did we get married?

Just as I round the corner, lost in my thoughts, I crash right into a wall of muscle.

Strong hands shoot out to catch me before I can topple over.

"Whoa, careful there, love," a deep voice rumbles, warm and smooth like melted chocolate. He has a british accent, which is highly noticeable as he speaks,

"Running from someone or trying to knock me over?"

I blink up at him, caught completely off guard.

He's handsome, but not the hard, polished, dangerous kind like Alex. No, this man is different.

His brown eyes sparkle with amusement, framed by thick lashes, and his black hair is neatly trimmed, giving him a clean look that somehow makes him seem more like a prince out of a storybook than real life.

But it's his outfit that makes me pause, black riding boots, slim white riding pants that tuck perfectly into them, and a fitted dark navy blazer with silver buttons.

He has a white dress shirt inside, open slightly at the collar, and tucked neatly, giving him a regal air, like he just stepped out of some royal estate.

It's definitely a prince.

"Are you alright?" he asks, one brow quirked, his hands still firm around my waist, steadying me.

"I—yes. Sorry," I stammer, feeling my cheeks burn as I step back quickly like his touch burned me.

He smiles, tilting his head. "No need to be sorry. Though I must say, if all women here bump into me like that, I might start making it a habit."

I laugh despite myself, rolling my eyes.

"Do you always flirt with women you almost knocked over?"

"Only the pretty ones," he says, flashing me a grin that could probably melt steel.

He's pick up line is totally cliche, but

I feel he knows that, and it seems

fun to him. Normally, such attitude would repel me, but this one seems bearable, or maybe I'm just desperate for conversation. So I don't cry myself out in the bathroom.

I shake my head, my lips twitching.

"That's pretty lame."

"Is it? I better work on my lines then." He glances over my shoulder, as if wondering who I was running from. "So? What's got you running like you're about to set fire to the whole place?"

I shrug, keeping my tone casual. "Just needed some fresh air. Crowds aren't really my thing."

He leans in slightly, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Or maybe a certain someone's getting under your skin?"

I blink at him, caught off guard again. "Do you always guess people's secrets for fun?"

He chuckles. "Only when I'm right."

I huff a laugh, shaking my head, but before I can respond, he glances down at his second glove and starts to put it on while looking back at me.

"You don't look like you belong in a place like this," he says casually, shoving his hands into his riding gloves, but there's no judgment in his tone - only curiosity. "Trust me, I don't," I respond honestly.

"We can work on that." He winks, and I roll my eyes, making him laugh.

Even his laugh is hot.

Who is this man?

"So tell me, do you ride?"

I blink, confused. "Ride what?"

He smirks. "Horses, love. Unless you thought I meant something else?"

My face goes bright red, and he laughs, clearly enjoying how flustered I am.

"I-no! I mean... I've never even liked horses," I mumble, crossing my arms in defense, though I feel my heart race at the way he's watching me. "Really? That's a shame," he teases. "A woman like you? I think you'd look stunning on a horse."

I snort. "I think I'd look like a disaster."

He steps a little closer, voice dropping to a low murmur, "You'd be surprised.

Sometimes, it's the ones who resist it the most who end up falling in love with the

ride."

Something in the way he says it sends a strange thrill down my spine.

Before I can answer, he lifts his hand and gestures to a man nearby in uniform.

"Bring her one of the riding outfits. Medium," he orders.

I blink. "Wait, what? No, no, I'm not—"

"Oh, you are," he cuts. "Final parade is in ten minutes. You'll ride with me. It'll be fun. Besides..." He leans closer again, smirking, "You said you needed air. What better way to get it than on horseback?"

"I've never been on a horse," I protest as my heart beats faster and faster, making

blood rush to my ears.

"All the more reason to start now," he says, grinning like this is the best idea in the

world.

Before I can argue, the man returns,

handing me what looks like a perfectly tailored black riding jacket, fitted cream-colored jodhpurs, and black boots. A medium-size@white blouse making me debate this.

Am I seriously considering doing this with a man I bumped into five minutes ago?

"Go on," he urges softly, watching me with those warm brown eyes. "Trust me,

love. You'll look like a queen on that horse."

I hesitate, clutching the outfit in my arms, my heart pounding.

"I-I don't know..."

"Trust me," he grins, offering me his hand like it's the simplest thing in the world.

"You need this."

I stare at his hand, my heart hammering, torn between reason and the sudden

thrill pulsing through my veins.

For once, reason doesn't win.noveldrama

And maybe, for once, I want to feel like I belong somewhere.

"Alright," I say, surprising even myself