Never Again, My Ex-Husband

Five years after our divorce, I ran into Jackson Roscente at the luxury department store.

The sales associate was wrapping the necktie I had chosen for my husband.

Her tone warmed noticeably when she saw him arrive.

"Mr. Roscente, your wife selected a suit for you—it's ready for pickup."

The man gave a slight nod, his gaze lingering on the necktie in my hand.

"Add hers to my bill as well."

I politely declined and placed my cash on the counter.

He seemed to sigh softly.

"Olivia, after all these years, you still resent me."

I smiled without responding.

Who has that much time to hold grudges?

I had long since moved on.

---

I took the shopping bag and casually placed it into my tote already filled with groceries before turning to leave.

The early autumn wind howled around me.

As I walked to the bus stop following memory's path, the gusts tangled my hair across my eyes.

I could barely keep them open.

When I finally pushed the stray strands aside, Jackson Roscente's car stood before me.

Seeing my red-rimmed eyes, his brow furrowed deeply.

"Get in. I'll give you a ride."

"No need, thank you. I'll take the bus."

His gaze traveled from head to toe, pausing at the tote bag slung over my shoulder.

He spoke carefully, as if handling something fragile.

"Have you been well... all these years?"

"I've been fine."

Jackson clearly didn't believe me.

"Please, let me drive you home."

The bus behind us blared its horn repeatedly.

He remained unmoved.

Under the public scrutiny, I reluctantly got into his car.

"Parkview Residences." I offered the address casually.

The air grew heavy with silence before he spoke, his voice strained.

"Why are you living in a place like that? It's been abandoned for years. And for a woman alone, with..."

His words trailed off.

But I knew what he meant to say.

It was where my mother died.

Ten years ago today, she refused to attend my wedding to Jackson.

She climbed to the tenth-floor rooftop and jumped.

The back seat offered ample space, but the heating was turned too high.

I rolled down the window slightly.

"You'll catch a chill in the wind. Close it. I'll lower the temperature if you're warm."

I shook my head with a faint smile.

"That doesn't happen anymore. Do as you please."

He fell silent.

Moments later, his phone rang.

"Darling, did you pick up the clothes? Where are you now?"

The voice through the car speakers was familiar, yet carried an unfamiliar, coquettish warmth.

"Got them. I ran into Ye and I'm giving her a ride home."

Silence lingered on the other end.

"Ye is back? It's been so long. Why didn't you tell me? You're meeting without inviting me?"

Having known Olivia Lowell for over a decade, I'd never heard her speak in such a tone.

She used to be reserved and quiet, completely devoted to her painting.

When someone stole her competition spot, she would only hide away and cry.

It was me who publicly smashed that person's entry with a baseball bat.

I wrote letters exposing the corruption and spent three days in juvenile detention to get her justice.

Absolute favoritism truly gives people courage.

"It was just a chance meeting. She has things to do. I'll return after dropping her off."

"A chance meeting means fate brought you together. What's wrong with treating an old friend to a meal?"

"Olivia, don't be difficult."

The line went quiet.

Jackson had always been gentle when coaxing someone.

But once his mind was set, no one could change it.

Olivia should have known this better than I did.

The call ended abruptly as the car stopped outside my building.