His regret: Can't win me back

Jasmine

Sweat drips down my body despite the air conditioning blasting in the car. My hands tremble as I clutch the divorce agreement, my fingers tightening around the edges.

My heart pounds in my chest, a mix of fear and relief swelling inside me. I can't believe this moment has finally arrived-I am divorcing Maxwell. The man I once believed was my forever.

We have been married for three years, and before that, we were college sweethearts.

Everyone expected us to tie the knot the moment we graduated. We were the perfect couple-the golden duo that made people believe in love.

The first year of our marriage is nothing short of a dream, filled with laughter, passion, and late-night talks that stretch until dawn.

But after that, everything crumbles. My love story turns into a nightmare of betrayal and deceit.

Maxwell is unfaithful. He doesn't even bother hiding it anymore. He comes home late, reeking of perfume that isn't mine, with lipstick stains on his collar and his phone screen, turned away from my sight.

Whenever I confront him, he gaslights me, calling me paranoid, insecure, and delusional. He twists the truth so masterfully that I almost start doubting myself.

But deep down, I know. I always know.

His emotional abuse is a wound that never heals, cutting deeper with every cold glance and dismissive word.

And as if that isn't enough, there is another painful reality weighing on my shoulders-I have not been able to conceive in the three years of our marriage.

This fact only worsens the tension between us. I overheard him complaining to his mother in hushed tones, his voice dripping with frustration.

I need a child, Mom. She can't give me one. The words sting more than any slap ever could.

I have visited doctors repeatedly, searching for answers, hoping to fix whatever is wrong with me, only to be told that there is nothing medically preventing me from conceiving.

Yet, in Maxwell's eyes, I am the problem.

I exhale shakily and step out of my car, my legs unsteady as I approach the house.

His car is parked neatly in the garage. My brows furrow. He should be at work right now.

Maxwell is the CEO of a multinational company-his job keeps him busy at all hours of the day. What is he doing at home at this time?

I shake off the uneasy feeling creeping up my spine and enter the house. The living room is eerily quiet.

That in itself is strange. Maxwell never likes silence. He always plays soft music, whether he's working or relaxing. The absence of sound unsettles me.

As I make my way toward our bedroom, a faint noise reaches my ears. I freeze. My breath catches in my throat. The sound is unmistakable-a moan.

My heart pounds violently against my ribs. My body stiffens, and my mind races through every possible explanation. Maybe I misheard. Maybe it's the television. Maybe-

Another moan. This time, it is louder. Clearer. Feminine.

Dread crashes over me like a tidal wave.

I inch closer to the bedroom, my hands shaking, my ears straining to catch every sound.

Then I hear it.

"Ah, Max, faster. Mmm, Max, you are incredible."

The voice is high-pitched, dripping with pleasure.

I stop breathing. A sharp pain stabs through my chest like a knife twisting in slow, agonizing circles.

The betrayal isn't new, but hearing it and witnessing it makes it all the more unbearable.

My fingers tighten into fists as rage boils inside me. I push the bedroom door open, my movements slow and deliberate, my heart thundering in my ears.

And there they are.

A naked woman is on top of my husband, her body bouncing on his lap as Maxwell grips her hips, his head thrown back in pleasure.

A red haze clouds my vision. The sight of them in our bed, on our sheets, in our home-it is too much.

I cannot hold back.

With a surge of fury, I step forward and grab the woman by her hair, yanking her off Maxwell with all my strength. "You slut!" I scream, my voice raw with rage.

She shrieks like a banshee, her limbs flailing as she struggles against my grip, but she refuses to let go of Maxwell, her body still tangled with his.

Maxwell's eyes snap open, widening in shock as he finally registers my presence. "Jasmine-"

I don't let him finish. I tighten my grip on the woman's hair and yank harder. "Get off him!"

She screams, thrashing against me, her nails clawing at my arms. Pain flares, but I don't care.

My anger burns hotter. I raise my hand and slap her across the face. Once. Twice. The sound echoes in the room.

She gasps, stumbling backward, her eyes wide with disbelief. But she recovers quickly, lunging at me with renewed fury.

She grabs my hair, yanking hard. I let out a pained cry but retaliated, grabbing her by the neck and sinking my teeth into her hand as we crashed to the floor.

"Jasmine, stop!" Maxwell rushes to intervene, his body still bare, his manhood dangling uselessly. Disgust churns in my stomach.

The woman scrambles to her feet and clings to him. I push myself up, my breathing heavy.

Without thinking, I slap Maxwell across the face, the force of it making his head snap to the side.

"You have no shame," I seethe. "Bringing a whore into our matrimonial bed. I have endured your countless affairs, but this-this-is the final straw."

Maxwell stares at me, stunned. He is not used to this side of me. I have always been the quiet, submissive wife. The one who tolerates. The one who forgives. But not anymore.

I turn to the woman, my lip curling in disgust. "Get the fuck out of my house. Now."

She smirks, her expression turning smug. "What makes you think I'll leave?" She glances at Maxwell and scoffs.

"Is this your wife? The one you said is as dry as sandpaper? The one who just lies there like a dead fish?"

Her words sliced through me, raw and humiliating.

My eyes snap back to Maxwell. "You told her that?" My voice wavers, but my fury remains steady.

He shrugs. "I was just stating the obvious."

A sharp, bitter laugh bubbles up inside me. Before I can think, I lift my leg and kick him right between the legs.

He doubles over, gasping, his face contorting in agony. Satisfaction floods through me.

"You cheating, lying son of a bitch," I spit, standing over him.

The woman watches, finally realizing that she has underestimated me. She takes a step back, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

I turn to her once more, my rage still simmering. "And you-get out before I throw you out myself."

She laughs mockingly. "You should just give up, loser. You've been replaced." She turns to Maxwell. "Throw her out."

I don't flinch. I don't scream. I simply watch as Maxwell straightens, as he considers doing exactly what she says.

At that moment, I know.

There is no point in fighting.

I exhale, steadying myself, and nod. "I'll go."

Both of them freeze, startled by my sudden surrender. But I don't care.

I retrieve my bag and return with the divorce agreement, tossing it onto the bed. "Sign it."

Maxwell stares at the papers, the weight of my words sinking in.

He never thought I would leave.

He was wrong.

I have no idea what awaits me beyond this moment.

But I know one thing-this is the beginning of something new.

Jasmine

Without uttering a word, I turn and walk out the door. My vision blurs as tears well up in my eyes, and my chest tightens with a pain so deep it feels unbearable.

Each step I take away from that house feels both liberating and crushing as if I am simultaneously shedding the weight of my past and losing a part of myself.

I bite my lip, willing myself not to break down. They could come outside at any moment, laughing, mocking me, reveling in my pain as they had done inside.

I refuse to give them that satisfaction. But the moment I step outside, the dam bursts.

A sob rips through me, raw and unrestrained, pouring from my body like an unstoppable downpour.

My hands shake, my knees threaten to give out, and my breath comes in sharp, gasping stutters. My body trembles with motions I have tried so hard to suppress.

"Why am I even crying?" I scold myself harshly, wiping my face with trembling fingers. "It's over. I divorced him. I should be relieved."

But the pain doesn't listen to logic. It claws at me relentlessly.

I am not just mourning the end of a marriage-I am grieving the years I wasted, the nights I stayed awake hoping he'd change, and the love I gave so freely to a man who never truly valued it.

The signs were always there, long before we exchanged vows, but I had been too blinded by love, too hopeful, too foolish to think he would change.

But no woman can change a cheating scum like Maxwell.

I clutch my handbag like a lifeline and storm toward the elevator, jabbing the button with more force than necessary.

The doors slide open, and I step inside, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The moment the doors close, I press my back against the cold metal wall, trying to ground myself.

My heart feels like it's being wrung out, squeezed so tightly against my chest that I wonder if I might collapse.

The truth is glaring, undeniable-Maxwell has been unfaithful long before I caught him.

He used my kindness against me, manipulated my love to his advantage, and twisted my devotion into something weak and disposable.

"You should quit your job," he had said once, his voice smooth, soothing, the kind of voice that had always made me go weak just listening to him. "You're trying to conceive, and stress isn't good for you."

And I, so desperate to build a family with him, had listened. I had walked away from a career I loved, convinced I was doing the right thing for our future.

But there was no future.

Only his desires, his convenience, his selfishness. I was nothing more than a pawn on his chessboard, easily sacrificed, easily replaced.

The elevator dings, breaking through my storm of thoughts. I step out into the chilly night air, as I wrap my arms around myself.

A shiver racks through me. I should have brought a jacket. But I guess I was too focused on the scene I had walked in on to think about anything else.

My hands shake as I fumble for my phone, my fingers numb from the cold. I scroll through my contacts, my vision blurred with fresh tears, before pressing the one name I know I can rely on.

Ava.

She answers on the first ring. "Jasmine?"

I try to speak, but my throat closes up. A strangled sob escapes instead.

"Jasmine, talk to me! What's wrong?"

I gulp in a breath, forcing the words out. "It's over. I just-" My voice breaks, my chest heaving. "I just walked in on him. With another woman. In our bed."

Silence. A heavy, tense silence. Then a sharp intake of breath. "That bastard."

I hiccup, and wipe my face, though the tears won't stop.

"Listen to me," she says, her voice firm, urgent. "Take a deep breath. Get a cab. Come to Rockford. Now."

I nod, even though she can't see me. "Okay," I whisper, my voice barely audible.

I flag down a cab and slide into the back seat, my body drained, my spirit hollow.

I give the driver her address, and we pull away from the curb. The hour-and-a-half drive feels endless, every mile stretching time as my mind spins, replaying every red flag I had ignored.

How many times had I convinced myself I was overreacting? How many times had I let him gaslight me into silence?

"You're imagining things, Jasmine."

"Don't be so insecure."

"You're being paranoid, baby."

The driver's voice pulls me from my downward spiral. "Miss, we're here."

I blink, disoriented. "Oh. Thank you."

I pay him and step out, my legs weak beneath me. The moment I turn, a figure rushes toward me.

Ava.

"Oh, my Jasmine," she murmurs, pulling me into a fierce embrace.

And just like that, I break again. I sob against her shoulder, my entire body trembling.

But she doesn't let go. She holds me, rubs my back, and whispers reassurances as she guides me into her apartment.

-

Starting over in Rockford isn't easy, but Ava makes it bearable. She asks no unnecessary questions and never makes me feel like a burden.

Instead, she becomes my anchor, my reminder that I am not alone.

Maxwell hasn't called. Not even once. And that, more than anything, confirms what I have known deep down-he never truly loved me. Not the way I deserved.

But I refuse to let my life stop because of him.

I land a job at an upscale restaurant, a place buzzing with Chicago's elite. The pay is decent, the tips generous.

For the first time in a long while, I feel like I am rebuilding something of my own. Taking control of my life, one step at a time.

Tonight, Ava and I decided to celebrate. It has been too long since I have let loose, and I want to remind myself of what it feels like to simply be.

We get ready together, picking out outfits with the kind of giddy excitement I haven't felt in years.

When we arrive, the club is packed, but thanks to Ava's connections, we get in without a hitch.

She orders the strongest beer, and I follow suit. One drink turns into two. Then three. The music pulses around me, drowning out the remnants of my heartbreak.

Somewhere along the way, I lose Ava in the crowd. As I scan the room, my gaze locks on a man across the busy floor.

Tall. Confidence. An air of mystery clinging to him like a second skin.

My heart stutters.

For a moment, it's as if the world slows. A strange, electrifying pull coil in my chest.

Our eyes meet. Just for a second.

But it is enough to send a shiver down my spine.

Then the crowd shifts, and he is gone.

I exhale shakily, trying to shake off the feeling.

But something tells me...

He's still watching.

Jasmine

I steal glances around the room, as my eyes search, with the possibility of another glimpse of him.

The music thrums in the background, as it blends with the low hum of conversations, but my focus remains on the stranger.

I take another sip of my drink, the cool liquid trailing down my throat as I hum along to the familiar tune playing over the speakers.

Tonight feels different like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. It has been so long since I let myself enjoy a night out, and I revel in the rare moment.

And then, I see him again.

The mysterious stranger moves through the crowd effortlessly, his tall frame commanding attention.

He walks with purpose, his dark, wavy hair falling smoothly over his forehead, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw.

His piercing eyes seem to hold a thousand untold stories, locked on mine with a quiet intensity that sends a shiver down my spine.

A warm smile tugs at his lips as he approaches. My breath catches, my pulse quickens, and I can't look away.

"Hi," he says, his voice smooth, velvety, and rich with an undertone that makes my skin tingle.

A sudden warmth spreads across my cheeks. "Hi," I reply, my voice softer than I intended, carrying a hint of something playful.

I scold myself inwardly for how easily I fall under his spell, but I can't help it.

The way he looks at me-hungry, intrigued-makes my stomach twist with something dangerous, something thrilling.

A knowing smile plays at his lips as he leans in just slightly, the space between us crackling with heat.

"It's getting hot in here, don't you think?" he murmurs.

A slow shudder rolls through me at the deep timbre of his voice. My breath hitches, and my body betrays me, responding to him in ways I don't fully understand.

Before I can process my reckless desire, I find myself melting into him.

His lips capture mine, firm and insistent, it ignites something deep inside me. I gasp into his mouth, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he presses closer.

The room blurs around us, dissolving into nothing but heat, breath, and the intoxicating pull of his body against mine.

I barely register when he kicks open a door, guiding me inside. My back meets the cool surface of a wall, but the chill does nothing to quench the fire burning between us.

My leg wraps around his waist, as I pull him closer, his erection pressing against me through our clothes.

A soft moan escapes me as his hands roam my body, one pinning my arms above my head, the other tracing my curves.

I surrender completely.

His touch is electric, every brush of his fingers sending a wave of pleasure course through me.

My body reacts instinctively, arching into him, craving more. He groans against my lips, breaking the kiss just long enough to whisper, "Fucking beautiful," as his fingers tangle in my hair, releasing my curls freely.

My clit drips for him in a way I've never felt before-not even with Maxwell.

His eyes, dark with lust, stir something deep inside me. Without hesitation, he grips my waistband, yanks my panties to the side, and slides them off in one swift motion.

I gasp, my body already craving his touch. I know I should stop him, but do I want to? Hell no.

His fingers graze my clit, circling with slow, deliberate strokes, sending ripples of pleasure through me. A desperate ache builds in my core and my body trembles. I need more.

Moisture pools between my thighs as his fingers move expertly around my cunt, teasing.

My legs shake and the intensity is overwhelming. But just as I surrender to the pleasure, he pulls his hand away.

And then I feel his sudden thrust inside me.

I inhale sharply, my breath shaky as I arch into him, my hips rolling to take every inch.

He moves slowly at first, controlled and deliberate, but I don't want to be slow. I want it rough. I grip his hips, urging him deeper.

"Fuck me good. Make me forget," I slur with need. His gaze trails down to my breasts as his fingers ghost over my skin.

A low growl rumbles from his throat as he grabs me tighter; his thrusts become harder and desperate.

He moves in a way that makes my entire body burn for him, each stroke sends waves of pleasure through me.

His hands roam, as he explores every inch of me, driving me wild. This is different-raw, reckless, consuming.

He captures my breast in his mouth, sucking, and biting as he slams into me, pushing me closer to the edge.

I feel him-thick, stretching me to my limits. My head tilts back, eyes rolling, as his pace is relentless. My clit clenches around him, and my body tightens.

And then-ecstasy.

I cry out as he thrusts deeper, harder, my entire being shatters under the force of my orgasm. He let out a low growl, his body tense as he followed, filling me with a final, powerful thrust.

The room spins. My pulse pounds.

He stills, breathing heavily before he presses a soft kiss to my forehead. Then, slowly, he lays beside me.

In his arms, I find a reckless freedom I have never known before. The world outside ceases to exist. Nothing matters except the stranger and the fire he ignites within me.

-

The sharp ringing of my phone shatters the silence.

My eyes snap open, and my stomach lurches as I take in my surroundings.

The sheets tangled around my bare skin Panic grips me as I sit up abruptly and scan the space for any sign of him.

Nothing.

No note. No trace of the man who had consumed me so completely.

What the hell have I done?

I don't even know his name.

I hurry to gather my clothes, my hands shaking as I dress.

My mind races, as I try to piece together last night, but the only thing I know for certain is that I let myself get lost in something I don't understand.

I slip out of the room, and head home, as I dread the conversation waiting for me.

-

Ava is already at the door when I walk in, the moment she sees me, she rushes forward and wraps me in a tight hug.

"I was afraid something happened to you," she breathes, with relief.

I exhale shakily. "Ava, you wouldn't believe what happened."

She pulls back, "What? What is it?"

I hesitate, then blurt out, "I met a guy at the club... and we... we..." I struggle to find the words, feeling my throat tighten.

Ava's eyes widened. "Wait. You slept with him?"

I nod, pressing my fingers against my temple. "It was hasty. Reckless. Completely out of character for me. I don't know what I was thinking."

Ava guides me to the couch. "Okay, take a deep breath. It happened. You can't change it now. Just tell me everything."

I do. I told her about the stranger, the pull between us, the way he made me feel like I was on fire.

Ava pulls me into another hug. "It's okay, Jasmine. We all make mistakes."

I shake my head. "This feels different, Ava. I feel like I've lost control of my life."

She strokes my hair. "You haven't. You're just going through a rough time. And you don't have to do it alone."

Tears sting my eyes as I cling to her. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

-

Days pass, but I can't stop thinking about him. Why did he leave without a word?

I lounge on the couch, scrolling through my phone, trying to distract myself. But something feels... off.

I'm exhausted no matter how much sleep I get. My cravings shift-salty fries with sweet ice cream? My breasts feel sore and fuller than usual. And then it hits me.

My period. It's late.

I grab my keys and rush to the store. The thought of pregnancy, especially after my divorce, sends a fresh wave of fear through me.

At the store, I grab four pregnancy test kits, my hands trembling as I pay. The drive home is a blur of anxiety.

Ava glances up from her laptop as I walk in. "Hey. You okay?"

I swallow hard. "Ava... I think I might be pregnant."

Her eyes widened. "What? Are you sure?"

I shake my head. "No. But I have the signs."

Ava stands up. "Let's not panic. Let's be sure first."

I nod and head to the bathroom. My hands tremble as I unwrap a test, carefully following the instructions. My heartbeat thunders in my ears as I wait for the result, each second dragging unbearably.

Then, the timer beeps.

I pick up the test strip, my breath hitching as I look at the result.

And the world tilts beneath me.