Take Me Back, Ex-Wife

Olivia’s POV

“Olivia, is that you?” I heard my husband’s voice from the other end of the line.

“Yes, it’s me, honey,” I replied eagerly. “I know it must be late in Paris right now, but I just called to say I miss you.”

“Hm, actually, I’m already back in New York,” he said, making my eyes widen slightly.

“Really?” Alexander had been away on a business trip for weeks, and I didn’t know he’d returned. “Oh my God, that’s great! You’re coming home!”

I heard him sigh on the other end. I had to temper my excitement; I was so in love with him that I couldn’t help but get overly thrilled knowing he was back.

“I’m only coming by this afternoon,” he warned.

I nodded quickly, even though he couldn’t see me. “Of course, I understand you’re working…” I stammered. “If you want, I could stop by your office to see you—”

“No! For God’s sake, no. Don’t even think about it, don’t be ridiculous,” he said, cutting me off sharply.

I let out a nervous giggle. “Sorry, I’m just excited to see you, love.” His response was an awkward silence, but I tried again. “I’ll make something delicious for you to eat. How about filet mignon or wild salmon? You love meat. I’ll pick out a nice wine for the occasion,” I suggested. I truly loved cooking for him.

“Just be home when I get there,” he said, then hung up. I stared at the phone screen for a moment, longing for an “I love you” before he ended the call, but I had to remind myself that Alexander was exhausted from work, and I shouldn’t expect too much from him.

So today, I decided to prepare his favorite meal. Cooking for my husband always brought me joy, a way to nurture our marriage and show him how much he meant to me. I wanted him to feel my love, to know how grateful I was that he chose me.

We married right after college, and now, three years later, my husband, Alexander Vaughn, a billionaire, remained somewhat distant, his affection restrained. Still, I worked tirelessly to win his heart, believing we were making progress—until that devastating evening when everything fell apart.

Alexander walked into our home and headed straight for the kitchen, where I was cooking. His commanding presence filled the room—tall, impeccably dressed in his CEO suit, his green eyes sharp against his dark brown hair. He was breathtaking, as always, and my heart still fluttered as it did the day we met.

I greeted him with a warm smile, thrilled to see him home early. “You’re back!” I said, stepping toward him for a hug and a kiss, as was our routine. But this time, he stepped back, avoiding my touch, leaving me stunned.

“We need to talk. Can you come to my office?” he said, his voice steady but cold. He held a slim envelope, his expression tight, signaling something serious.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, my stomach knotting. He gave a curt nod, his face unreadable.

“I’ll be in the office,” he said, turning and leaving the kitchen.

I asked the house staff to watch the sauce I’d been perfecting for Alexander’s dinner, ensuring it wouldn’t burn, then followed him. We lived in an elegant mansion in Manhattan’s elite district, surrounded by luxury and staff, yet I cherished cooking for him, a small act of devotion.

Pausing at a hallway mirror, I smoothed my long, auburn hair, my hazel eyes reflecting worry. I was decently attractive, but the warmth I usually carried was overshadowed by anxiety. Alexander was always reserved, but he’d never been this distant, this icy, before today.

I opened the office door and stepped inside. Alexander sat behind his desk, the envelope still in his hand, his face unyielding.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to a chair across from him. I managed a weak smile, confusion etched on my face. He wasn’t always the warmest husband, but this coldness was new, unsettling.

“What’s this about, Alexander? Is it related to your Paris trip?” I asked, settling into the chair. He’d been away on business for weeks, but apparently, he’d returned earlier and was only coming home now. Did he need time away from me?

Dealing with him always felt like walking on a glass floor, afraid it might shatter. He was sensitive, didn’t like me touching him, speaking too loudly, or sometimes even speaking near him, so I had to be cautious, always wondering if I was doing something he disapproved of. But I tried so hard to please him—my entire life since we married revolved around him. I’d even planned this dinner to celebrate his presence, always focused on making him happy.

“It’s not about work. It’s about us,” he said, sliding the envelope across the desk.

My heart skipped a beat as I looked at the envelope. What could it be? It could be anything, given how unpredictable my husband was—it might be something good or bad, but I hoped it was good, like maybe two tickets for a trip to the Maldives I’d been talking about wanting to take with him for weeks. If he was surprising me with that now, it would honestly be the best thing that could happen.

“What could it be? I confess, you’re giving me chills, babe,” I said with a nervous giggle, opening the envelope and pulling out a small stack of papers. My heart stopped when I read the title on the first page:

DIVORCE AGREEMENT.

Shock coursed through me as I skimmed the document.

“What is this?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“If you turn to the last page, you’ll see my signature. I’ve signed it. I just need your signature to finalize it,” he said, his tone eerily calm as he offered me a pen.

“Alexander, what are you talking about? Why a divorce?” My voice shook, my heart pounding. From a Maldives vacation to this? It was the last thing I expected.

He sighed, leaning back. “Sometimes, a marriage reaches its end. We can part ways peacefully. You’ll keep all your marital rights and can move on with your life. Just sign the papers.”

“No, Alexander,” I said, shaking my head, tears threatening to fall. “I won’t sign. This is insane! Y-you can’t just spring this on me like it’s nothing! This is our marriage, our life together!”

“What marriage, Olivia?” he snapped, his voice cutting. “There’s nothing left between us. I want a divorce, period.”

His words stung, his coldness unlike anything I’d seen from him before. This wasn’t the man I married.

“Why, Alexander? At least tell me why you’re doing this,” I pleaded, tears spilling over. I couldn’t grasp it. How could he discard everything we’d built? He’d never even mentioned separation before to prepare me mentally. I knew he was difficult to deal with, but being blindsided with divorce papers like this was just cruel.

He slammed his fist on the desk, standing abruptly. “Just sign the damn papers!” he shouted. I flinched, sobbing, shaking my head.

“What are you doing? I won’t sign, Alexander! You can’t end our story like this. I’m your wife. I love you, and I know you love me. We promised forever!” My voice broke with anguish.

I stood, moving toward him as he stared out the window. “Alexander, if I’ve done something wrong, please, let’s talk. Let me fix it,” I begged, reaching for his hand. He pulled away, refusing my touch.

“Stop it, Olivia! I’m done. I’m not interested anymore,” he said, his words slicing through me. How could he dismiss me like this, after vowing to love and cherish me?

Fueled by anger and pain, I grabbed the divorce papers and tore them to shreds, desperate to destroy the thing threatening to end my marriage.

“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled, trying to stop me, but the papers were already in pieces.

“I’m not signing anything, Alexander Vaughn!” I shouted, defiant. He ran a hand through his hair, glaring at me.

“You can tear those up, but I have copies,” he said, his voice smug. “No matter how many times you destroy them, I’ll keep demanding you sign until you let me go, Olivia.”

“No…” I whispered, broken.

“The staff has packed my things, as I instructed. I’m leaving. From now on, contact me only through my lawyers. I expect you to finalize this divorce soon,” he said coldly.

Then he walked out of the office, leaving me alone, tears streaming down my face as my world crumbled.