Dear Ex Wife Please take me back novel Chapter 92

ATHENA

My breath catches.

“What?” I whisper. My fingers tighten around the strap of my bag as suspicion, curiosity, and confusion tangle in my chest.

“That doesn’t make sense…" What kind of task?”

He doesn’t smile, but there’s something soft in his eyes. “They knew you’d be here at one point. Your mother planned this visit down to the year. She said you'd come when you were ready.”

I stare at him, finding the whole ideal ridiculous, “I have been coming here every year-”

“Except last year.” He interrupts me, and my heart jumps to my throat.

Is he a stalker?

Everything inside me screams to be cautious, but something else, a deeper pull, urges me forward. The way he said their names.

The certainty in his voice

Call it a hunch or stupidity, but I feel like I can trust him.

“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice quieter now.

He exhales slowly, almost like he’s relieved I didn’t walk away. “Just a short walk. There’s a box… in my car. Your parents left it for you.”

I hesitate for a beat longer, then slowly nod, my heart pounding loud in my ears.

This is how people end up dead.

“Okay,” I say, my voice sounding more stable than I feel. “But if this is some kind of-”

“It’s not,” he cuts in gently. “You’ll understand soon, Athena.”

For someone who has faced death twice, I'm pretty good at making dumb decisions.

As I follow him down the cemetery path, leaves crunching beneath our steps, I can’t help but feel like my life is about to change.

The man stops beside an old black sedan parked beneath the shade of an oak tree.

Its paint is faded, but the windows gleam, and something about the car feels… creepy, like it’s been waiting here in secret just as long as he has.

He opens the trunk carefully and pulls out a medium-sized box wrapped in aged leather and secured with a brass lock.

“This was kept safe for ten years,” he says, placing the box gently on the hood of the car. “Just like they asked me to.”

I stare at it, my heart racing, unsure whether to reach for it or run.

Running seems like a smart idea.

But I’m feeling pretty much the opposite, so instead of running, I open my mouth.