Ex-Husband’s Regret by Evelyn M.M novel Chapter 522

Emma

I stare at the mess in front of me, not really sure what to do with it. I’ve been off these past few days and I haven’t been able to pinpoint the exact reason as to why I’ve been feeling this way.

I’ve tried thinking about it, but nothing comes to mind. All I know is that I have been feeling off. Like something is wrong or something bad is about to happen. I can’t shake the feeling no matter what I do. It sits still, heavily weighing on my heart.

Have you ever felt that way? Like you are having premonition of something that’s about to happen? It frustrates me because I can’t pin it down, and it’s driving me insane.

Sighing, I look down at my gloved hands. Mia suggested that I should do something to take my mind off my worries and to relax. Yesterday I talked to Ava, and I happened to mention it. She suggested I should try gardening. According to her, it used to help her, especially when she was stressed and wanted to do something to take her mind off things.

Ava told me she used to plant vegetables, but she suggested I could try planting flowers if I didn’t want to plant vegetables.

So here I am, having no fucking clue about what I am doing. Ava was always the outdoor one. She loved playing with dirt and digging whatever treasure she thought she could find. When we got older, she transitioned to planting anything that could be planted. Most of the herbs and vegetables we used for cooking were planted by her. We also always had fresh flowers in vases around the house. They were also courtesy of Ava.

I’ve never planted a single thing in my life, so I have no idea what to do. Does it just involve shoving the seed down the soil and watering, or is there something more to it?

“What are you doing?” I was so lost in thought that I hadn’t noticed Gunner coming into the backyard.

I look from him, to my hands, to the sachets of flower seed, and then back to him again.

“I honestly don’t know,” I answered, sitting on the back of my legs. “I thought I could plant some flowers, but I don’t know where to start.”

He looks at me for what seems like forever. This time, though, there wasn’t any anger or bitterness in his gaze. Just curiosity and some hesitancy. It’s like, as much as he is curious about me, he is not sure whether to trust me given what I’d put him through.

“I’ll help you,” he finally says, stunning me into silence.

My throat is clogged with emotions, so my voice comes out a little rough: “Really?”