Ex Husband Wants Me Back

The clinking of wine glasses, the soft hum of jazz, and the low chatter of polished people floated around Aria Bennett like an out-of-body experience. She sat still, her posture elegant and composed, wearing a deep emerald dress that hugged her like an old secret. Her fingers tapped the side of her wine glass absently, her gaze unfocused on the shimmering skyline just beyond the rooftop's glass balustrade.

It was a benefit gala. Another one. Another night of pretending that she hadn't once been the woman every eye watched because of the man standing across the room.

Damien Westwood.

Three years apart, and still, her heart betrayed her at the sound of his voice-even now, muffled in conversation with someone in a navy tux.

He hadn't changed. If anything, he had grown more devastating. His jaw was still a weapon-sharp and clenched with restraint. His black hair was a little shorter than before, his shoulders broader, his posture more commanding. The world still bowed around him. And Damien, as always, bowed to no one.

Aria sipped her wine, wishing it were strong enough to dull the ache in her chest.

She shouldn't have come.

But the gallery she managed was a recipient of the Westwood Arts Grant, and this event had been pitched as a professional opportunity. Nothing more. She'd convinced herself she could handle it. Handle him. She was over it-wasn't she?

Except that every time she saw him, she was reminded of the life she once had. The woman she used to be. The girl who thought love was enough.

Three years ago, she walked away from their marriage with nothing but a duffel bag and a broken heart. No alimony. No settlement. Just her pride, and even that felt paper-thin some days. The tabloids had speculated everything from infidelity to infertility. None of them guessed the truth: Aria had left because she couldn't recognize herself anymore.

Because in loving Damien, she had lost herself.

"Aria?"

She turned, her spine straightening before she could help it.

Maddie. Her best friend, her chaos partner, her reluctant emotional compass. Tonight, she wore blood-red heels and carried herself like a woman ready to burn the world down for Aria if given the chance.

"I've been looking for you," Maddie said, looping an arm around Aria's. "You okay?"

Aria nodded. "Fine."

"You're not. You're in the corner with a thousand-yard stare while the man who broke your heart breathes the same air as you."

Aria smiled wryly. "That dramatic, huh?"

"Worse," Maddie said. "He keeps looking at you."

That forced a breath out of her. "Let him look."

But even as she said it, her body betrayed her again-turning ever so slightly, her eyes flickering to the side of the room where Damien stood.

He was looking at her.

His gaze held no apology. No arrogance. Just quiet intensity. Like he saw her. Like he always had. Like he always would.

Aria turned away.

"I shouldn't have come," she whispered.

"You came because you're stronger than you think. And because this gallery deal matters."

She exhaled, nodding slowly. "Yeah. That's why."

Maddie leaned in. "You want to leave?"

Aria hesitated.

And that's when she heard it.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a voice boomed through the speakers. "Please welcome the man behind tonight's cause-CEO of Westwood Enterprises, Mr. Damien Westwood."

Applause erupted.

Aria froze.

Damien walked onto the stage with practiced ease, the perfect portrait of calm and command. He didn't speak for a moment, letting the crowd settle. Then his eyes found hers-and stayed there.

"I don't usually make speeches," he began. "But tonight is different. Tonight, I'm not here as a CEO. I'm here because someone once taught me that art... isn't just about beauty. It's about truth. The kind that stares back at you when you're too afraid to look. The kind that cracks you open."

A long pause.

"I lost that truth once. And I've spent years trying to remember it."

Aria's stomach dropped.

He didn't mention her name. He didn't have to.

Everyone in that room knew exactly who he was talking about.

The spotlight dimmed. The applause returned. But Aria didn't hear it. She stood up, heart racing, body burning with a thousand emotions she couldn't name.

She walked out.

Down the corridor. Past the waiters. Into the elevator.

When the doors closed, she let her back hit the wall, closing her eyes against the memories clawing their way back to the surface.

She had healed. She had rebuilt. But Damien Westwood had always been the wound that never quite scarred over.

And now, he was back.

Not just in the same room.

But in her orbit.

Again.