Reclaimed By My Ex-husband
Chapter 40: I just want to move on

Chapter 40: I just want to move on

Nathaniel slammed his hand down on the desk, his voice rising in a furious growl. "Impossible. I won’t let her go."

Bree blinked, caught off guard by his sudden outburst. For a moment, she was silent, staring at him in disbelief. Then she scoffed, shaking her head. "Narcissist," she muttered. "I don’t get it—you wanted to end this marriage. She agreed. Isn’t that what you wanted? Why are you acting like some possessive husband now?"

His eyes darkened with rage. "You have no right to question me," he snapped. "I’m not stupid. You think showing me a few photos will change everything?" He shoved the phone toward her with contempt. "These could be fake. Why should I trust anything you say?"

Bree’s cheeks flushed with fury and humiliation. "You—"

He cut her off coldly. "You call yourself her friend? If you really cared, you would have told her what’s best instead of encouraging her to break her marriage. You are shielding her affairs, covering for her. With a friend like you, who needs enemies?"

Bree’s fists trembled at her sides, her whole body shaking with restrained rage. She wanted to punch him hard, just to knock some sense into his thick skull.

"Break her marriage?" she echoed with a bitter laugh. "Have you been listening to yourself? You never valued her. You treated her like nothing more than your child’s nanny. You were cold, distant, and absent. This marriage was already broken, and you were the one who wanted the divorce in the first place. Don’t act like the victim now."

"I changed my mind. Do you have a problem?" Nathaniel said flatly as he met Bree’s glare head-on.

"Changed your mind?" she snapped, lips curling in disbelief. "Is this some kind of joke to you?"

"You’ve wasted enough of my time," he growled, jabbing a finger toward the door. "Get out. Now."

Bree didn’t argue further. She let out an exhausted scoff, rolled her eyes, and muttered under her breath, "Asshole," before turning on her heel and slamming the door behind her.

As silence fell over the room, Nathaniel leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands down his face, frustration radiating from every line of his body.

"Shit, man..." he muttered with regret. He let out a long sigh that seemed to come from deep in his chest.

He had acted like he didn’t believe her, dismissing everything she said as lies or manipulation. But deep down, he knew Bree hadn’t made anything up.

Zara hadn’t been unfaithful. Still, the fear wouldn’t let go of him. The thought of her moving on, smiling at another man, building a life without him stabbed at his pride, his heart.

His jaw locked. "That’s not going to happen," he muttered fiercely. "I won’t let it."

~~~~~~~~~

It was nearly nine when Nathaniel finally arrived home. Mrs. Jules met him in the hallway. "You are back," she said as she took his briefcase without a word.

His gaze drifted upstairs, settling on the closed door of the bedroom. "Has she eaten anything?" he asked quietly.

Mrs. Jules shook her head, her expression weary. "No. She refused to eat anything. I tried, but she just wouldn’t listen." She let out a deep, defeated sigh.

Nathaniel dropped his gaze to the tip of his shoes. "Okay," he said after a moment. "Give me the food. I’ll try."

Mrs. Jules gave a small nod and disappeared into the kitchen. She returned with a bowl of chicken broth. "Let her start with this. I’ll send the rest later."

Nathaniel accepted the bowl and made his way upstairs. As he pushed open the bedroom door, he found her lying on the bed, her back turned to him, curled tightly under the blanket.

He stopped in the doorway, watching her for a moment. Then he stepped inside and walked over to the nightstand, placing the bowl down carefully.

"Zara," he said softly.

She heard him. Her body tensed slightly, eyes closing tighter as she clutched the blanket closer. She didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to speak.

"Don’t pretend you are asleep," Nathaniel murmured. "I brought you something to eat. It’s warm—have it now."

At his words, Zara’s eyes flew open. She turned slightly to glare at him. "I won’t eat," she said with resentment.

With that, she rolled over, turning her back to him again.

Nathaniel wasn’t ready to give up. He knew he had hurt her with his words and his doubts. Now, the least he could do was try to ease her pain. Sitting down beside her, he spoke gently.

"You need to take your medicine, and for that, you need to eat something. Come on... just a little."

He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, coaxing her to eat.

Zara immediately flinched and pushed his hand away. "I’m not hungry."

He wasn’t angry. "I know you are angry with me," he replied patiently. "But don’t take it out on the food. You’ll only make yourself feel worse. Do you want to fall sick on top of everything?"

Her resolve wavered. She was hungry, and the warm, savory aroma of the chicken broth only made it harder to resist. Her stomach growled, betraying her pride. She sighed quietly and sat up, reluctant but worn down.

Nathaniel reached for the bowl and handed it to her without a word.

Zara took it with a cold glare. She dipped the spoon in and took one sip. Then another. And another. The broth was rich, comforting. Despite herself, she kept eating.

Nathaniel watched her, a quiet ache loosening in his chest with every spoonful she took. Seeing her eat lifted a small weight off his shoulders.

"I shouldn’t have yelled," he said quietly. "I should’ve talked to you... should’ve listened and tried to understand."

Zara paused, spoon halfway to her lips. Her eyes slowly lifted to meet his.

The remorse in his tone now felt almost laughable. Bree had told her everything—his accusations, his cruel words, how easily he had doubted her. Hearing his regret now felt too late, too shallow.

She didn’t say a word. She simply looked away and resumed eating.

"I realized my mistake," Nathaniel said cautiously. "Can you let go of your anger... and forgive me?"

Zara froze, the spoon hovering midair. Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes narrowing with a bitter glint.

"Forgive you?" she echoed with a cold laugh. "You accused me. You locked me up like I was some criminal. And now you expect forgiveness—just like that?"

"I—" he started, but she cut him off sharply.

"Don’t act like you are remorseful. I know everything. Bree told me what you said—every word, every insult. The way you doubted me, humiliated me."

Her voice cracked slightly, but her eyes burned with resolve.

"You know what? I don’t even care anymore. I’m done wasting my emotions on you. I don’t need your pity or your guilt. I just want to move forward with my career and life. I want peace. And that means staying away from you."

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