Forgotten Wife My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left (Clara and Liam) novel Chapter 190

Sienna's POV

Upon finishing the phone call, I felt warm and cozy inside. I sat on the front porch once more, sipping hot tea. Small birds swarmed the trees, and schoolchildren's laughter played out loud in the distance.

My tea was slowly ingested. The taste was soothing.

The garden was lightly dampened by the morning wind, which swept the leaves.

Shadows glimmered across the porch floor as sunlight illuminated the branches.

So I sat down in the wicker chair, quietly watching time go by without any distraction.

On the tiny table, I found a notebook and pens that were new to me. I stared at them for a while before making contact. Although my fingers were a little peevish, it was time to start over today. It felt like a new beginning upon opening the blank page.

My slow writing this morning centered on the moment when Noah laughed to himself during breakfast and how he hugged me before leaving. My handwriting initially rattled, but it gradually grew more composed. Every utterance felt like the return of a fragment of my past.

I muttered, almost silent, "I didn't spot it.”

In the past, I just breathed. I stopped following the breakdown of our marriage and my loss of direction. It was a complete letdown. I assumed that all I could write was pain. I was wrong this morning. Because even the smallest moments of joy should be recorded.

The half-assed page caught my attention. As if the paper was winding down, it seemed to be reading. Without realizing, a smile flickered on my lips. The feeling was that I spoke directly to the version of Sienna who was once fearful and constantly delayed her own joy.

A neighbour sweeping their lawn drifted away with the sound. The smell of wet earth and the scent of jasmine from my teapot near the fence blended with the warm aroma. It was a peaceful, unassuming, yet authentic experience.

With a soft touch, I closed my notebook and turned around to look at the street outside. Cars moved slowly, and some school children ran and laughed as well. But this world just kept going, and for the first time in years I didn't feel left behind.

I sifted the ingredients and placed them on the counter. The kitchen remained tranquil as spoons, bowls and mixer rings clanked. The noon heat was evident in the air, and the aroma of melted butter on my stove made me feel more at ease in our kitchen. I opted for a vanilla cake with chocolate sprinkles that were Noah's favorite.

I mixed the batter and then reminisced in Liam's eyes this morning before he headed off to work. It didn't make sense for me to notice him more often lately. His smile on Noah's face, and his gentle reminder to avoid getting weary. Small things made my chest sway gently, as if something new was sprouting after a long period of coldness.

I put the batter into the pan and placed it in the oven. I made cream and small pieces of chocolate for the topping while waiting. Each move felt like a gentle awakening to the warmth of existence, slowly but surely.

My hand slowly moved while I was stirring the soft cream in a glass bowl. A soothing melody was created by the spatula's gentle motion against the sides. Sunlight trickled down from the kitchen curtains and landed on the worktable, creating a golden color that blended with the thickening vanilla cream.

I scanned the oven timer with fifteen minutes left to go. While I was waiting, I tended to the table and put away the flour bags that were scattered around it. The basic gesture gave me a sense of calmness, without any rushes or worries.

At that time, cooking and baking made me feel like I was on my own. But now, it is different. The peace I felt was not easily accounted for, as if the mixture and sweet smell emanated from the oven filled my quiet spaces that had previously been so hollow.