Dear Ex-Wife Please Be Mine Again (Christina and Alex) novel Chapter 196

Chapter 196 Christiana's POV

The house was quiet, too quiet. I wasn't used to it being this still.

The kids were at school, Alex wasn't home yet, and I had let Grace and the team handle things at the company for the day. It was supposed to be a chance for me to unwind, but I didn't know how to sit still. The silence pressed down on me, making the spacious mansion feel empty.

I had tried reading, even considered sketching out a new design for the upcoming collection, but nothing held my attention. My mind wandered too much, replaying old memories and recent ones, twisting them together in ways that didn't help me relax.

When the doorbell rang, it startled me. I wasn't expecting anyone, and for a moment, my heart skipped in panic. Crossing the living room, I peeked through the side window before opening the door, and when I saw who it was, I froze.

Sebastian stood there, holding a grocery bag in one hand and a small smile on his face. He looked better than the last time I saw him, but there was still something guarded in his expression. The bruises from his beating had mostly faded, but I could still spot faint discoloration along his jawline. His hair was slightly messy, and he seemed... lighter somehow, but not carefree.

"Sebastian?" | asked, blinking at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought you could use some company," he said, lifting the bag in his hand. "And a home-cooked meal."

"You cook?" I couldn't hide the surprise in my voice.

"Don't sound so shocked," he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "I'm half-Italian, remember? My mom made sure I knew my way around a kitchen."

I stepped aside, watching as he casually made his way to the kitchen like he'd been here a hundred times before. "You just decided to show up and cook?"

He shrugged, setting the grocery bag on the counter and beginning to unpack it. Fresh basil, tomatoes, garlic, a block of parmesan, and a box of pasta came into view. "You looked like you needed something different the last time I saw you," he said without looking at me. • "And I need a distraction. Win-win."

I folded my arms, leaning against the counter. "Sebastian, you don't have t o - "

"Relax, Christiana, he interrupted, glancing up with a crooked grin.

"I'm not here to stress you out. Just sit down, watch me work, or better yet, help me."

"Help?" | raised an eyebrow.

"Unless you're too scared to get your hands dirty," he teased, his tone light, though there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes.

I sighed, shaking my head as I walked over to the sink to wash my hands. "Fine. But if this turns into a disaster, it's on you."

He laughed, a sound that seemed to loosen the tension in the air.

"Trust me. I've got this."

As we worked together, I found myself watching him more than the food. There was something therapeutic in the way he moved, chopping onions and mincing garlic with precision. It was easy to forget who he was in moments like this.

"So, Italian delicacies, huh?" | asked, stirring the tomato sauce as it s i m m e r e d .

"Spaghetti alla puttanesca," he said, handing me a spoon to taste the sauce. "Simple but delicious. My mom's favorite."

I tasted it, nodding in approval. "It's good."

"Of course it is"" he said with mock arrogance, earning a small laugh from me.

But as the cooking continued, the lightness of our conversation started to shift. I noticed the way his hands tightened on the edge of the counter when he thought I wasn't looking, the way his jaw clenched when a particular thought crossed his mind.

"How are you holding up?" | asked softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

He looked up, meeting my eyes. For a moment, he seemed caught off guard by the question. "Better," he said after a pause. "Still piecing things together, but better."

I nodded, not pressing further. He had been through a lot-too much, really. The beating, the years of being treated like an outsider, the constant comparison to Alex. It was a lot for anyone to b e a r.

"You don't have to do this alone, you know," | said, adding a pinch of salt to the sauce.

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I know. But I've got a lot to prove, not just to everyone else but to myself."

The conversation didn't go much deeper after that, but the unspoken understanding between us lingered. When the food was finally ready, Sebastian plated it with care, presenting it as if we were in a high-end restaurant.

"Not bad, huh?" he said, setting the plates on the dining table.

"Not bad at all," I admitted, sitting down. "You might have missed your calling."

He laughed again, a real laugh this time. "Don't tell Alex that. He'll never let m e hear t h e end of it."