All Chapters of After The Divorce: Ex-husband's Regret: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

The apartment was quiet in the kind of way that made every small sound feel intrusive.The ticking clock above the television.The hum of the refrigerator is somewhere behind the kitchen wall.The soft tapping of Matthew’s fingers against the keyboard resting on his lap.He sat slouched into the couch, laptop balanced carelessly over one knee while half-finished documents glowed against his tired face. Numbers blurred together on the screen. Emails remained unanswered. A spreadsheet sat open for nearly twenty minutes without a single adjustment.His eyes burned. Every few seconds, his attention drifted back toward the phone, lying face down beside him.He rubbed his hand over his jaw and forced himself to focus on the laptop again.A payment schedule and outstanding balances.Remaining debt after the partial loan settlement.He exhaled slowly and leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a moment.The apartment he had rented barely looked lived in. Two suitcases still sat unopened near

Matthew stared at the message on his screen again even after memorizing the address.His fingers tightened around the phone.For one suspended moment, he stood there in the middle of the apartment while everything Grace had said continued crashing into him in fragments.She collapsed and she’s bleeding. The baby is in distress.The word refused to settle normally inside his head. It moved through him violently, stirring memories and guilt and something dangerously close to grief.Ava had been carrying his child, while he ignored her.While he slept beside another woman.He convinced himself that he still had time to repair the damage later.Matthew inhaled sharply and unlocked his phone again.He needed a flight immediately.His thumb moved frantically across the screen, opening travel apps one after another.Every flight was full. And the available one is tomorrow morning.“No, no, no…”His knee bounced restlessly as he refreshed the page again.His breathing became uneven the longer

The red light above the operating room door remained on. Grace had stopped checking the time nearly an hour ago because every glance at the clock only made her chest tighten harder. The hospital corridor smelled sharply of antiseptic and cold air conditioning, the kind that settled into the skin and refused to leave. Nurses moved past her in soft-soled shoes, speaking in low voices, pushing carts that rattled faintly against the tiled floor. None of it stayed in her mind for long. She sat for a while. Then stood and then sat again. Her fingers were clasped so tightly together that her knuckles had gone pale. Please let her survive. The words repeated soundlessly in her head until they no longer even sounded like language. A doctor stepped out briefly at some point to request additional blood units. Grace had rushed to her feet so quickly that the chair nearly tipped behind her. “Doctor—” “We’re managing the situation,” he said quickly, already turning away. “Please stay calm.

The steady beep of the monitor filled the hospital room with a rhythm that had begun to feel cruel. As though the machines had decided life could be measured by numbers alone while the people inside the room slowly unraveled. Matthew lay against the white sheets without moving, one side of his forehead wrapped in bandages, faint bruising scattered along his jaw and neck. The swelling around his temple had gone down slightly since morning, but his skin still carried that pale, drained look Clara hated. It frightened her. Not because he looked weak, but because he looked absent. She sat beside him with a small white towel in her hand, carefully wiping the thin layer of sweat from his forehead. Every few seconds, her fingers paused near his hairline like she expected him to suddenly wake up and complain about how cold the towel was. But he never did. Across the room, Mrs. Taylor sat stiffly on the visitor's chair, her handbag resting untouched on her lap. She had not spoken

The flight drained whatever strength Ava had left in her body. By the time the plane landed, her lower back throbbed in waves that traveled down her legs, and the incision beneath her clothes burned every time she shifted in her seat. The baby stirred softly against Grace’s chest, wrapped carefully in the pale blue blanket the hospital had given them three weeks ago. He slept through the landing, unaware of the exhaustion pressing against the adults around him. Ava sat still after everyone began standing. People reached for bags overhead. Seatbelts clicked open. A child somewhere ahead started crying from the pressure change, and the sound scraped against Ava’s already frayed nerves. Grace leaned closer carefully so she would not wake the baby. “Ava.” Ava blinked slowly and turned her head. “We need to stand up now.” “I know.” But she did not move immediately. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the seat instead. Her breathing came unevenly, shallow from pain and fatigu