HIS REGRET (Ex-Husband wants Me Back) novel Chapter 62

**Shadows of the Past – By Emma Clarke**

**Chapter 62**

“Ugh.” Vanessa let out a frustrated groan, pressing her fingers against her forehead as a dizzying wave washed over her. With great care, she shifted to the edge of the bed, attempting to move silently, as if the very act of making noise would summon the chaos of the previous night back into existence. The only clear memory she held onto was James’s arrival, and then… everything blurred into a haze.

“James?” she called out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Silence enveloped her, thick and heavy. The room lay empty, a stark contrast to the tumultuous thoughts swirling in her mind.

Yet, the fragmented images from the night before clung to her consciousness—vivid and undeniable. Something significant had occurred, something that had crossed a line. Guilt settled heavily on her chest, a stone she couldn’t shake off, but…

“As if Daven even cares if I’m lonely,” she muttered bitterly, the words tasting like ash on her tongue.

With a determined push, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, smoothing the hem of her silk sleepwear as she rose. She stepped into the hallway, her heart sinking further as she expected to find herself alone. James must have slipped away after attending to whatever urgent matter had pulled him from her side.

Except…

“What are you doing here?” Vanessa’s voice held a note of surprise as she entered the kitchen, her eyes widening at the sight before her.

James turned from the counter, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Good morning—well, nearly afternoon, Miss,” he replied cheerfully. He gestured toward a spread of breakfast items he had prepared, pulling a chair back for her. “I made toast and a strawberry smoothie. Unless you’d prefer something heavier?”

“No,” she answered hastily, sinking into the chair. “You didn’t go home?”

James raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. “Why would I?”

Vanessa studied him for a moment, her mind racing as she struggled to find the right words.

“You’re flying to Paris at 3 p.m.,” he reminded her gently, his voice soothing. “You haven’t forgotten you’re attending fashion week, right?”

Ah. Right. The reality of her packed schedule crashed over her like a wave, and she realized she had forgotten that detail in the chaos of her thoughts.

“I’ve already taken care of the essentials,” he continued, his tone reassuring. “Noura will handle the rest. We’ll meet at the airport by two. I hope the breakfast suits your taste.”

Vanessa remained silent, picking at a piece of toast while her eyes flickered toward James, who seemed so composed, so effortlessly calm. He appeared as if nothing had transpired between them the night before, as if it had all been a mere figment of her imagination that she could easily dismiss.

Yet, two years had slipped by since that first moment of weakness. If she were honest with herself, she had lost track of how many boundaries they had crossed since then.

But James never broached the subject. Not once.

He simply resumed his role the following day, never pushing her, never demanding more than she was willing to give. It was as if the unspoken agreement between them was easier than confronting the truth.

Vanessa’s guilt clawed at her insides once again.

But then, she found herself whispering, “Has Daven ever cared how lonely I’ve been?”

“You said something?” James’s brow furrowed slightly as he looked at her, genuine curiosity in his gaze.

She quickly shook her head, dismissing the thought. “No. I’m done,” she stated firmly, pushing her half-eaten breakfast away as if it were the source of her discomfort.

His voice drew her attention to the two large suitcases that stood neatly against the wall. She didn’t need to ask—of course, James had packed them for her.

A part of her knew she should thank him. But…

“Yes, I know,” Vanessa replied flatly, her tone lacking warmth.

“I’ve set out something comfortable for the flight to Paris,” James continued, his voice steady. “Would you like me to leave it outside your room?”

“Just come in,” she sighed irritably, her patience wearing thin.

James obeyed her command, stepping into the room only to quickly avert his gaze the moment he caught sight of her. Vanessa still wore the silk robe she had woken up in, the neckline slipping slightly off one shoulder, revealing a faint red mark she seemed oblivious to.

James didn’t dare look again—not at that, not at what he had left behind. If she caught him staring, she would undoubtedly unleash her frustration upon him.

“Has Arsen contacted you?” Vanessa asked suddenly, catching him off guard with the unexpected question.

Arsen—Daven’s assistant. They occasionally exchanged updates to coordinate their bosses’ schedules, but…

“No, Miss. Nothing from him,” he replied, keeping his voice steady.

Vanessa’s jaw tightened as she glanced once more at her phone—still nothing. No messages. No calls. Not a word from Daven, even after everything that had transpired.

She felt a surge of anger rise within her, the urge to throw the phone across the room nearly overwhelming.