No Second Chances Ex-husband (Lauren and Ethan) novel Chapter 42

LAUREN'S POV

I sat there, staring blankly at the dinner right in front of me. It had been twenty-four hours since I lost Elena, yet somehow, her memory clung to me like a second skin I couldn’t peel off. The food looked warm and inviting, but to me, it might as well have been ashes.

Tessa’s voice floated around me, sometimes faint, sometimes sharp enough to pierce through the heavy fog that wrapped itself around my mind. She was scolding me again, just like she always did whenever I lost myself too deeply in grief.

“I swear, Lauren, do you want to starve yourself to death?” she snapped, her tone carrying both frustration and worry.

It was the word death that finally pulled me back, made me lift my eyes from the untouched food. Death felt so close now, almost like an old friend beckoning me. My only joy had gone there why couldn’t I follow?

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. My chest felt hollow, and the heaviness in my heart weighed every breath down.

Just then, the sharp buzz of my phone broke the silence between us, vibrating against the wooden table beside me. It startled me, but I made no move to reach for it. I simply stared at it, as though it belonged to someone else entirely.

Tessa watched me carefully, her brows furrowed. “Aren’t you going to see who it is?” she asked, her voice softer now.

I didn’t respond. What did it matter? Nothing anyone could say or do would matter anymore. I kept my gaze fixed on the cold food in front of me, as if hoping it would swallow me whole. My thoughts wandered, each memory of Elena becoming clearer, sharper, like broken glass cutting deeper into my heart.

With a sigh, Tessa picked up the phone herself, swiping across the screen. For a moment, she read silently, and then she exhaled slowly, the sound heavy with the weight of words she was about to share.

“It’s Ethan’s lawyer,” she said finally, looking over at me. “He says the funeral will be held tomorrow. Peace Park Cemetery.”

My head turned to face her, the mention of the funeral snapping something awake in me. My heart tightened painfully, and my fingers curled around the edge of the table. Tomorrow. So soon.

Tessa looked troubled, her eyes searching my face. “Why so soon, though?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

I swallowed hard, forcing out words that felt like gravel in my throat. “Because he probably wants to get it off his chest,” I said quietly, my voice hollow. “Along with everything else.”

I lowered my gaze back to my dinner, the food that had grown cold while I sat in silence. My hand moved, almost on its own, picking up the spoon. The first bite tasted of nothing, a dull texture that slid across my tongue without meaning. The food had no taste, not because Tessa couldn’t cook, but because whatever was left of my joy had died with Elena.

Across the table, I saw a flicker of relief cross Tessa’s face as she watched me finally take a few bites. Her lips curled into a small, fragile smile, as though seeing me eat was proof that there was still something left of me to hold onto.

But inside, I felt empty. The food sat like a stone in my stomach, heavy and cold. I ate not because I was hungry, but because tomorrow I would need strength. Strength to stand. The strength to say goodbye to my baby for the last time.

As we made the short trip to the funeral, my heart felt like it was being squeezed tighter with every step. I could have never imagined that this day would come when I would be attending my own daughter’s funeral. The thought repeated over and over in my head, louder than the sound of traffic or my own footsteps: I never knew the last time I hugged her would be the very last time.

When we arrived, the place was more crowded than I expected. People stood around in small groups, some speaking in hushed tones, others avoiding eye contact altogether. My eyes instinctively scanned the scene, and I couldn’t help but notice the food and drinks being served. Waiters walked around with trays, offering them to guests.

For a moment, bitterness rose in my chest. Did these people come to truly mourn Elena, or were they here for the food, to gossip about a tragedy that wasn’t theirs? I forced myself to look away. It wasn’t my place to judge them, not today. I wasn’t here for them, I was here only to say my final goodbye to my sweet, innocent girl.

Tessa was close behind me, her presence steady and comforting even though she barely spoke. Together, we moved forward, closer to where Elena’s small coffin rested, covered in white flowers that looked too bright against the dark clothes of the mourners. My heart ached at the sight, it felt too final, too cruel.

Then, just as I was gathering the courage to take those last steps forward, a voice I hadn’t heard in what felt like forever spoke to me from behind.

“Look who decided to show up here,” the voice said, its tone sharp enough to cut through the fog of my grief.

I turned around slowly, my heartbeat quickening despite my exhaustion. And for the first time in two days, real surprise flickered through the heaviness clouding my chest.

Standing there, staring right back at me, was someone I hadn’t expected to see at all.