Dear Ex Wife Please take me back by The Every Woman

ATHENA

My blood boils. What kind of idiots are these?

I'm about to step forward and give them a piece of my mind, but someone beatsto it.

Alex.

He steps forward slowly, grabbing a sack of ingredients without hesitation. His face is calm, but his voice is cold.

"Is your company bigger than mine?." He stops and asks the first man.

"Mr. King, you seriously-"

"Answer my question." He cuts him off.

Everyone is so quiet you can hear a feather fall. The man starts shaking as he forces a fake laugh,

"No. How can | compare to you, sir?" He responds, and | hold back a scoff.

Bastards who want to bully those weaker than them but fumble when someone more powerful is in the picture.

So pathetic.

"Or you," He turns his head to the other two. So lazily, he looks like they don't even deserve to be looked at,

"Perhaps yours makes more money than mine does."

They both shake their heads quickly, mumbling something about how that's not what they meant. One of them

even starts stammering, trying to backpedal like a coward caught in a lie.

Alex scoffs and slams the sack onto the table.

"If you can't do what you're told to, then go home," he says, his tone sharp enough to slice through bone.

"Why are you even here? Is that what you're going to teach your kids? That a little dirt on your hands makes you

less of a man? That teamwork and effort are beneath you because you signed a few cheques?"

The silence is so thick that even the trees seem to lean in.

"No wonder your companies are still worth the svalue as an expired coupon," he adds with a dry smirk.

Speople chuckle under their breath, others are nervous, and others are stunned.

It's like walking around eggshells with Alex, and they all know it. One call from him

and everything they own either increases in value or turns to shit.

As much as | hate to admit. He is a powerful man. And | find it hot.

I mean, who wouldn't?

Ethan steps forward right after, his arms folded, and his gray eyes narrowed in that lazy way that somehow feels

more dangerous than yelling.

He clicks his tongue.

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"It's always the ones who peak at mediocrity that act like lifting a finger might kill them."

He turns to Alex with a laugh, grabbing a chopping board from the supply table. Then, he turns to face the

fathers.

"Letguess. Your wives dress you too?"

The teacher, standing at the front with a clipboard, lets out a noise, something between a laugh and a cough and

drops her pen.

| have to hold myself from bursting out into a fit of laughter.

Miss Lorenzo, Rayen's teacher's cheeks flush a deep shade of pink as Alex turns toward her.

"Where do we start?" he asks, his voice as friendly as it can get.

She blinks.

Twice.

Then, she points with a shaky hand to a section by the grill.

"Uh....r-right there, Mr. King."

| narrow my eyes at her.

She needs to calm down before her ovaries explode.

The dads, now shame-faced and awkward, scatter toward the supply tables.

One trips slightly.

Another mutters something about being misunderstood.

"Mums, it's your turn. Does anyone have a complaint?" The other teacher asks.

"No, we don't." We all respond in unison.

"Great!" She claps her hands together.

"You can get started!"

Everyone erupts into movement.

"Kids, pay attention to what mummy and Daddy are doing, alright?"

"Yes, Miss Lorenzo!" They all answer in unison.

Mothers head toward the open space where the playhouse materials are stacked,

Wooden planks, nails, hammers, colorful fabric, and even paint. Rose grabs a toolbelt and handsone without

hesitation.

"You ever built anything in your life?" she asks, tying her hair into a messy bun.

"Does a pillow fort count?" | mutter, eyeing a wooden beam like it just insulted my ancestors.

She snorts. "Close enough. Just don't hammer your thumb. That's rule number one."

"I'm a doctor. | can't get hurt by any means, so I'll be careful."

Rose pauses as the realization dawns on her.

"| totally forgot the dangers of doing this for you who has a delicate profession.

Maybe you should sit this one out." She suggests, but | shake my head.

"My son is watching. I'm doing it." | respond, leaving no room for arguments. She nods with a smile as the other

mothers join us, and we get to work. Honestly, it's fun. Loud, chaotic, and messy but fun.

Laughter bubbles around us as swomen try and fail to hammer nails straight. One mom is painting hearts

on a window frame, while another uses glitter for the door.

"It's a playhouse," she says when someone raises a brow. "Let's make it magical."

Across the field, the dads are a disaster in motion.

Alex is actually doing better than | expected. He looks focused with sleeves rolled up and stirring a pot so

carefully one would think he's in a lab and not a fake kitchen.

Ethan is beside him, flipping something over the grill with a spatula while scrolling through his phone.

"He is probably watching what to do online. He does that whenever he cooks for us." Rose laughs, following my

gaze.

One dad nearly burns the edge of a

cutting board. Another puts too

much in the pan and causes

flare up that sends aim stumbling back. Miss Lorenzo hurries over with a fire extinguisher, just in case.

s

"Sir, you're not frying a dragon,” she scolds gently, adjusting the fire and handing

him a ladle instead.

"Use a ladle instead."

"What's a ladle?" he asks.

"The thing in your hand." She says gently.

It's like she's working extra time, only with grown babies this time. | bet she

regrets asking them to cook.

Rayen runs over to his dad and hands him a bottle of water. Alex bends down and

says something that makes Rayen throw his head back with a giggle.

My heart squeezes in my chest.

The kids cheer every ta mom or

dad does something cool, when Rose drills two pieces of wood together perfectly, when Ethan flips pancakes into

the air and catches them on the pan. s

We're covered in sweat, dust, and glitter.

We're tired and laughing.

It's chaotic, but beautiful chaos.

For once, it feels like things are okay.

But whenever moments feel too perfect, fear starts clawing its way into my chest.

I'm about to brush it off when my eyes catch the sight of Ryan.

He doesn't look like he's here to enjoy the fun. His face is serious and his jaw is tight. | watch as he walks straight

toward the grill, leans in close to Alex, and whispers Something in his ear. s

Alex freezes.

The spatula in his hand hovers over the grill.

Then, his entire expression shifts, like the color drains from his face in an instant.

His eyes narrow, his lips press into a thin line, and the tension in his shoulders returns so fast, it's like a rubber

band snapping back into place.

Something's wrong.

Very wrong.

He steps back from the grill, his eyes scanning the field until they find me.

He says something to Ethan, who nods.

| watch as Alex places the spatula in Ethan's hand and pulls out his apron.

He walks towards me, and with each step he takes, | feel a harmer in my heart

and blood rushing to my ears.

Suddenly, it's like the warmth of the day disappears, like the sun tucks itself behind a cloud and everything stills.

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