Chasing His Divorced Wife

ELARA'S POV

"You're distracted again."

I looked up from the inventory list I'd been staring at without actually reading. Marcus stood in the doorway of my office, holding two cups of coffee, his expression concerned.

"Sorry. I'm fine."

"You've said you're fine seventeen times in the past two weeks. At this point, it's lost all meaning." He set a cup on my desk and sat down across from me. "Talk to me."

Marcus Chen had been my saving grace when I'd arrived in Seattle broken and lost. He'd given me a job at his gallery, then helped me open my own when I was ready. He was kind, patient, and one of the few people who knew the whole truth about my marriage.

"Damien came here two weeks ago."

Marcus's cup stopped halfway to his mouth. "Your ex-husband? The one who—"

"Yes." I wrapped my hands around the warm coffee cup. "He had a car accident. He has amnesia. He doesn't remember the last five years."

"Jesus. Is he okay?"

"Physically? I think so. Mentally? I don't know." I stared into my coffee. "He doesn't remember me, Marcus. He doesn't remember our marriage or the divorce or anything."

"What did he want?"

"To understand what happened. To know why we got divorced." I laughed without humor. "I told him everything. Every painful detail. And now I can't stop thinking about it."

Marcus set down his cup. "Do you still love him?"

"I don't know. How can I love someone who hurt me that badly? But how can I stop loving someone just because they can't remember?" I felt tears burning behind my eyes. "He sent me a text saying he found a letter he wrote two years into our marriage. He said he loved me but didn't know how to show it."

"And you believe him?"

"I don't know what to believe. The Damien who came here in the rain seemed different. Lost. Genuinely sorry. But I've been fooled before."

Marcus was quiet for a moment. "Can I give you some advice?"

"Please."

"Three years ago, you came to Seattle barely functional. You couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, could barely string sentences together. You were a ghost." His voice was gentle but firm. "It took you two years to rebuild yourself. To remember who you were before him. You're finally happy again. Don't throw that away for someone who might hurt you all over again."

"I know you're right."

"But?"

"But what if he's telling the truth? What if he really did love me and just didn't know how to show it? What if the amnesia gave him a second chance to be different?"

"Then he can prove it from a distance. You don't owe him anything, Elara. Not access to your life, not your time, not another chance to break your heart."

My phone buzzed. Another text from the unknown number I knew was Damien.

" I've been learning about who I was. I'm horrified. I understand if you never want to see me again, but I need you to know something. I'm going to therapy. I'm trying to understand why I pushed you away. I'm trying to become someone worthy of the love you gave me."

I showed Marcus the text. He frowned.

"He's trying to manipulate you."

"Is he? Or is he genuinely trying to change?"

"Does it matter? Elara, even if he changes, even if he becomes the best version of himself, that doesn't mean you have to take him back. You're allowed to protect yourself."

He was right. I knew he was right. So why did my chest ache?

"Come on," Marcus stood up. "Let's get lunch. You need to eat and stop obsessing."

We went to the small café down the street. Marcus ordered for both of us and tried to distract me with gallery business, upcoming exhibitions, anything but Damien. It almost worked.

Then my phone rang. James Hartley. Damien's CFO and best friend. I'd met him a handful of times during my marriage.

"I should take this."

Marcus nodded, concern written across his face.

I stepped outside. "Hello?"

"Elara, it's James. I'm sorry to call, but I need to talk to you about Damien."

My heart started racing. "Is he okay? Did something happen?"

"He's fine. Physically. But Elara, he's destroying himself trying to understand those five years. He's obsessed. He watches security footage from your marriage, reads old emails, he's not sleeping or eating properly. His doctors are worried."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I think you're the only person who can make him stop." James sighed. "Look, I know you have no reason to care about him after what he did. But the man I'm seeing now isn't the man who hurt you. He's terrified of who he became."

"That's not my problem to fix."

"I know. You're right. But I'm asking anyway because I'm worried about my friend." He paused. "There's something else. He hired a private investigator. He knows about Marcus."

My blood ran cold. "What about Marcus?"

"He thinks you're dating. The investigator sent photos of you two together. Damien's convinced you've moved on."

"Marcus is my friend. That's all."

"I know that. But Damien doesn't. And it's eating him alive."

"Good. Let him suffer like I suffered."

"Is that really what you want?" James's voice was quiet. "Because the Elara I remember wasn't cruel."

The words hit harder than they should have. "What do you want from me, James?"

"Just consider talking to him. One conversation. Let him explain. Then if you still want him gone, I'll make sure he never contacts you again."

"Why do you care so much?"

"Because I watched him become a monster over the years. I watched him push away everyone who cared about him. And now I'm watching him try to be better. Maybe he doesn't deserve a second chance, but I think he deserves the opportunity to try."

I closed my eyes. "I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask. Thank you, Elara."

He hung up. I stood there on the sidewalk, phone in hand, feeling like I was standing at a crossroads.

Marcus came outside. "Everything okay?"

"Damien thinks we're dating. He hired a private investigator."

Marcus's eyes widened. "That's insane. That's stalker behavior."

"Or desperate behavior from someone who's lost and trying to understand his life."

"You're defending him."

"I'm not. I'm just—" I didn't know what I was doing. "His friend called. He wants me to talk to Damien. One conversation."

"And you're considering it."

"Maybe."

"Elara, listen to yourself. This man put you through hell. Now he's having you followed and you're thinking about giving him another chance?" Marcus grabbed my shoulders gently. "I care about you. I don't want to see you get hurt again."

"I know."

"Then promise me you'll really think about this before you do anything."

I nodded, but we both knew I'd already made up my mind.

My phone buzzed again. Another text from Damien.

" I saw the photos. I'm happy you found someone who treats you better than I did. You deserve that. I'll stop contacting you now. I'm sorry for everything."

I stared at the message, something twisting in my chest.

Marcus read over my shoulder. "Good. He's backing off. That's what you wanted, right?"

"Right," I said. But my fingers were already typing a response before I could stop myself.

" Marcus is my friend. Nothing more. And you don't get to decide you're done. Not yet. Meet me at Pike Place Market tomorrow. 2 PM. You want to understand what happened? I'll tell you everything you don't see in those videos and emails.”

I hit send before I could change my mind.

Marcus stared at me. "Elara, what are you doing?"

"Something incredibly stupid," I said. "But I need to do it anyway."

My phone buzzed almost immediately.

" I'll be there. Thank you for giving me this chance."

"This is a mistake," Marcus said.

"Probably. But it's mine to make.”