Dear ex-Wife please be mine again

Chapter 16

Alexander POV

As I entered my penthouse, the weight of the day pressed heavily on my shoulders. The scene with Christiana replayed in my mind like a unending loop. The hurt in her eyes, the harsh words she threw at me–it all felt like a punch to the gut. I had seen Christiana vulnerable, and the sight was a sharp reminder of what I had lost.

I shrugged off the pizza delivery uniform, tossing it onto the floor as if it were the source of my pain. The act of removing it felt symbolic, a way to shed the façade I had worn to see my children. I was ng to be someone I wasn’t, and it had only compounded my regrets.

I moved to my closet, changing into my gym wear with a clenched jaw. The physical routine of it was comforting, an attempt to regain some semblance of control. As I slipped on my gym clothes, I couldn’t shake the image of Christiana’s anguished face, nor the revelation that I had children–twins, Ethan and Emma.

in

my

The past five years had been an endless grind, a struggle to forget her, to move on with Bianca. But now, with Christiana back

life, those feelings had resurfaced with a vengeance. I felt like a fool, having pushed her away when all needed was to hold on a little longer. The pain of divorce and the years of trying to rebuild myself seemed trivial compared to the agony of knowing what I had lost..

I headed to the gym, my mind was of regret and frustration. The echo of my footsteps on the marble floor was a harsh reminder of the emptiness that lingered despite my success. My personal gym was a sanctuary, but tonight it felt like a battlebeld.

As I approached the punching bag. I could hear Christiana’s voice again–her accusations, her anger. I let out a roar of frustration, my fist slamming into the bag with a force that shook my entire body. Each punch was a release of the pent–up regret and sorrow that had accumulated over the years.

“Why did I do it?” I muttered through gritted teeth, each strike punctuating my internal turmoil. “Why did I push her away?”

The rhythmic thuds of my punches were accompanied by the harsh gasps of breath. My guards and maids, accustomed to my routines, kept their distance, respecting the storm brewing within me

The sweat dripped down my face, while I clenched my jaw jard. I was a powerful billionaire, yet at this moment, I felt utterly powerless. The realization of my mistakes, the missed opportunities with Christiana, and the chance to be a father–it all crashed down on me with every punch

As I continued my endless assault on the punching bag, the anger and regret consumed me. I was haunted by what might have been, by the life I could have had if only I had been more patient, more understanding. And now, as I fought to let out my anguish. I could only hope that someday I might find a way to make amends, even if it meant fighting my own demons in the

process.

The nonstop assault on the punching bag had left me drenched in sweat, but my mind was far from calm. I was in the midst of my own private storm when my phone chimed, cutting through the chaos. I stopped, my heart racing as I wiped my face with a towel and fished the phone out of my pocket.

The screen lit up with Bianca’s name, and I swiped to unlock it. The messages were filled with images that only intensified my inner conflict. The first was a snapshot of her on the beach, her body in a bikini, framed by the sun and sea. She looked stunning, radiant even, but as I scrolled, a pang of guilt with a dull ache of disconnection.

The next set of pictures showed her fully dressed, posed against breathtaking natural backdrops–a picturesque contrast to the turmoil in my heart. Each photo was accompanied by cheerful captions, but I found myself unable to appreciate them. “Living my best life!” read one caption, another simply, “Nature is my therapy.

The truth was, Bianca was beautiful. She always had been. But as I stared at the images, my feelings for her seemed to dissolve like mist under the morning sun. The more I looked, the more I realized how distant I felt from her. My thoughts kept circling back to Christiana, the woman I had pushed away, the family I had walked out on. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

As I tried to absorb the dissonance, the phone rang again. Bianca’s name flashed on the screen. I considered answering, but the weight of the day’s revelations made me hesitate. I wasn’t in the mood for conversation, not with her, not right now. I needed to sort through my feelings, confront the mess I had made of my life.

I placed the phone face–down on the bench, the ringing fading into the background as I walked away. The gym’s cold, artificial lights felt too harsh now, as though they highlighted my internal turmoil. I needed to clear my head, to think about the next

steps. Most importantly, I wanted to see the kids again, to be near them and perhaps make some sense of this fractured reality.

1 stepped out of the gym and into the night, the cool air hitting my face like a slap. My mind was fixated on the kids, on Christiana, and the aching regret that seemed to follow me like a shadow. The future was uncertain, but I knew one thing for sure: I needed to confront my past and make things right before it was too late.

The cool night air did little to ease the turmoil inside me as I strode back to my penthouse. Once inside, I flung my gym bag aside and grabbed my phone from the bench. I dialed James, my PA, feeling the urgency of my thoughts crystallize into a concrete plan. The phone rang twice before James’s voice came through, crisp and professional

“James,” I said, my voice firm and audible, “I need you to handle something immediately.”

“Yes, Mr. Alistair?” James’s voice was steady, his tone reflecting his readiness

“I need you to arrange a meeting with Christiana,” I said, pacing the length of my living room. The expansive windows framed. the city skyline, but tonight, the view felt distant and irrelevant. “Set it up at a location of her choosing, somewhere private. And make sure it’s done discreetly.”

There was

was a pause on the line, a beat of silence that spoke volumes. “Is this related to the recent events?” James asked, his curiosity barely concealed.

“Yes,” I confirmed, running a hand through my hair. “It’s important. I need to make amends, and I need her to understand that. I’ve been reflecting on everything–on how I’ve pushed her away and the mistakes I’ve made. It’s time to face it head–on.”

“Understood, sir,” James replied, his tone shifting to one of quietness. “I’ll make the arrangements and ensure the meeting is secure. Is there anything else?”

“Yes,” I added, feeling a surge of urgency. “Inform her that it’s a personal matter, something that can’t be discussed over the phone. And make sure she knows it’s important for both of us.”

“Of course.” James said. “I’ll handle it right away”

I ended the call and sank into a plush leather chair, my mind racing with the weight of the upcoming confrontation. The decision to reach out to Christiana was not one I took lightly. It was more than just a reconciliation; it was about reclaiming a piece of my humanity that had been lost in the chaos of ambition and regret.

I glanced at the city below, the lights twinkling like distant stars. The path to redemption would be arduous, but it was one 1 was ready to undertake. The first step was to face Christiana, to acknowledge my mistakes, and to see if there was still a chance to make things right.

As I prepared for what was to come, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, thi

s was the chance I needed to rebuild what had been broken

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