AFTER THE DIVORCE
I never imagined life would bring me to a moment like this—standing frozen in my own living room, staring at my ex-wife draped across my sofa in a thin, seductive nightgown, whispering words that made my heartbeat crash painfully inside my chest:
“Give me a child.”
The sentence was soft, almost breathless. But its weight hit me like thunder.
1. The Woman I Once Loved
My ex-wife, Lena, had always been exceptional.
Beautiful.
Talented.
Sharp-tongued, graceful, and incredibly ambitious.
When we were married, she insisted we must have a house and a car before she would agree to having our first child.
“For our future,” she said.
“For stability,” she repeated.
And I worked like a madman because I wanted to give her everything she dreamed of.
She wasn’t lazy either—Lena had a way with people.
She knew how to talk, how to charm, how to build relationships.
She helped me climb the ladder at work in ways I could never have done alone.
I used to think I was lucky.
Blessed, even.
Until the day everything shattered.
I discovered she was cheating.
Not with just anyone—
but with a man far richer, far more influential, far more “perfect” than me in every way… except youth.
He was older, significantly older.
Yet Lena chose him.
She packed her bags, asked for a divorce, and walked out of my life without a trace of hesitation.
I didn’t fight.
I didn’t beg.
If she wanted another man, there was no point trying to hold on.
Still… the betrayal carved a deep hole inside my chest.
I didn’t stop loving her overnight.
Pain doesn’t obey logic.
And so, for three years, I quietly followed her life from afar.
She looked happy. Stable. Dressed in luxury, surrounded by wealth.
She seemed perfectly satisfied beside that old man with more power than I’d ever have.
Never—not once—did I think she would return.
2. The Unexpected Visit
I hadn’t changed my house keys since the divorce.
Back then, I didn’t have the heart to.
What I didn’t know was that Lena still kept her old key.
That afternoon, when I returned home, everything felt strangely quiet.
Too quiet.
I opened the door, stepped inside, and then—
My breath caught.
Lena was sitting there on the sofa, legs crossed, wearing a silky, nearly transparent nightdress that clung to her body like water.
She looked at me as if she had every right to be there.
“Lena?” I choked out.
She stood up slowly, her smile faint but dangerously familiar.
Then she walked toward me—confident, seductive, intentional.
Before I could react, she wrapped her arms around me.
And in a soft, trembling voice she whispered:
“Can you give me a child?”
3. Shattered Composure
I froze.
My hands hovered in the air, unable to return her embrace, unable to push her away.
A thousand thoughts collided violently in my head.
What was she saying?
Why now?
Why me?
Finally, instinct kicked in.
I gently pushed her back and swallowed the tightness in my throat.
“Lena,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “go change into something proper. If you want to talk, we’ll talk. But not like this.”
Because even though she was my ex-wife, even though she betrayed me…
I was still a man.
And she still knew exactly how to set my self-control on fire.
She stared at me, stunned—then her eyes filled with tears.
“He can’t have children,” she finally blurted out. “My husband. He’s too old. The doctors said it’s impossible.”
She sank down onto the sofa, voice breaking.
“I need a child. Otherwise I’ll lose my place in his family. His relatives already look down on me… I need something to secure my future.”
Her words stabbed into me—not because of the plea, but because of what it meant.
She didn’t come back out of love.
She didn’t miss me.
She didn’t regret leaving.
She came because she needed something.
From me.
4. The Days That Followed
I thought that would be the end of it.
That once I refused, she would leave.
But Lena persisted.
She called.
She messaged.
She waited outside my house.
Every day.
Her voice sounded desperate, fragile, exhausted.
“Just one child,” she begged. “You don’t have to take responsibility. I just need this one thing.”
Her desperation unsettled me deeply.
Part of me felt pity.
Part of me felt anger.
And part of me—stupidly, foolishly—felt something dangerously close to longing.
She was still the woman I once loved.
My heart couldn’t forget that easily.
And she knew it.
She always knew.
5. The Crossroads
One night, while lying in bed staring at the ceiling, exhaustion overwhelming me, a dark thought crept in:
Maybe I should tell her husband.
Expose everything.
End her manipulation.
Free myself from this madness.
But then I pictured her face—
the tears,
the trembling,
the plea for help.
Would I really destroy her status, her life, her safety like that?
Would it make me heartless?
Or would it finally set me free?
I didn’t know.
I only knew one thing:
I didn’t want this chaos anymore.
I didn’t want to be dragged into her world again.
I didn’t want to be the backup man she ran to whenever her perfect life cracked.
I didn’t want to be near her if all she brought me was pain.
6. The Unanswered Question
Now I sit in my living room, staring at my silent phone, knowing she will call again.
My chest feels heavy.
My mind is exhausted.
And deep inside, the question tears at me:
What should I do?
Should I help her?
Should I expose her?
Should I cut her off entirely?
All I know is this:
She is my past.
And my past is trying to drag me back.
But I…
I don’t want to be tangled with her anymore.
Not like this.
Not ever again.
