The Return of the Neglected Wife

The steady hum of the city buzzed outside my office window as the last rays of daylight painted the skyline in hues of amber and rose. My evening plans were simple: an early dinner at home, followed by an uninterrupted night of catching up on personal projects. I deserved a quiet evening after the chaos of the past few days.

But, as I'd learned time and time again, peace had a way of eluding me where Nixus was concerned.

My phone buzzed on the desk, and I glanced at the screen. It was a number I recognized, though I hadn't saved it. I debated ignoring the call, but a small part of me—the part that had once cared too deeply—compelled me to answer.

"Hello?" My tone was brisk, professional.

"Malia." His voice was smooth, low, and far too familiar. Nixus.

I sighed, already regretting my decision to pick up. "What do you want, Nixus?"

"I want to see you."

A derisive laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "You've been seeing plenty of me lately—more than I'd prefer."

"This is different," he said, and there was a softness in his tone that was so out of character, it made me pause. "I want to talk. Just the two of us. No arguments. No games."

I didn't trust it for a second.

"We don't have anything to talk about," I said firmly. "Whatever you think needs to be said, save it."

"Malia—"

"Goodbye, Nixus." I ended the call before he could finish, setting the phone down with more force than necessary.

It buzzed again almost immediately, but this time, I ignored it. Whatever scheme he was brewing, I had no interest in playing along. My time, my energy, my peace—those were mine now, and Nixus had already taken enough of them in the years I'd spent as his wife.

By the time I left the office, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the city was awash in the glittering lights of a thousand skyscrapers. I made my way to the parking garage, my heels clicking against the concrete as I mentally planned my evening. A glass of wine, perhaps a warm bath—simple pleasures I could actually enjoy now.

But as I approached my car, a tall figure stepped into my path. My breath caught for a split second before I steadied myself. Of course, it was him.

Nixus stood there, leaning casually against the side of my car as if he owned it, his tailored suit immaculate and his expression unreadable. There was a time when just the sight of him would've made my heart race, but now it only filled me with frustration.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, stopping a few feet away from him.

"I told you," he said, his voice calm and measured. "I want to talk."

"And I told you I'm not interested."

He straightened, stepping closer, and for a moment, the air between us felt charged. "Five minutes, Malia. That's all I'm asking."

His proximity was unnerving, but I refused to let him see that. Folding my arms across my chest, I fixed him with a steely glare. "You don't get to ask for anything from me, Nixus. Not after everything you've done."

His jaw tightened, a flicker of something—regret, perhaps—crossing his face. "I know I hurt you. I know I've made mistakes. But I want to make things right."

I laughed, the sound bitter. "Make things right? You've got some nerve."

"Malia, please," he said, and for the first time, there was genuine vulnerability in his voice. "Just let me take you to dinner. No strings attached. No ulterior motives. Just a conversation."

I studied him for a moment, searching for any sign of deceit. But no matter how sincere he might've sounded, I knew better. Nixus didn't do anything without a motive.

"I'll pass," I said coolly, brushing past him to unlock my car.

Before I could open the door, his hand shot out, gripping the top of the doorframe. It wasn't forceful, but it was enough to block my exit. I turned to face him, my eyes narrowing.

"Let me go," I said evenly.

"You can't keep running from me," he said, his voice low but firm. "We're not finished, Malia."

My heart thudded in my chest, though I refused to show it. "We are done, Nixus. We were done the moment I walked out of that house two years ago."

"You didn't walk away," he countered, his eyes darkening. "You ran. And you've been running ever since."

The accusation stung more than I wanted to admit, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing that. "If I was running, it was from you. And I had every reason to."

His hand dropped from the car, but he didn't back away. Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze boring into mine. "You think I don't regret what I did to you? You think I don't hate myself for it?"

I blinked, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice. It wasn't like Nixus to admit fault—ever.

"That's not my problem," I said after a beat, my voice cold. "Your regrets don't erase the damage you caused."

He nodded slowly, as if accepting my words. "You're right. They don't. But I still want to try."

I shook my head, taking a step back. "It's too late, Nixus. You can't just waltz back into my life and expect me to forgive you because you feel bad."

"I don't expect forgiveness," he said quietly. "I just want a chance to make things better."

"Better for who? You?" I shot back, my anger rising. "Because it certainly isn't for me."

He opened his mouth to respond, but I held up a hand to stop him. "Save it, Nixus. I don't have time for your games."

Turning on my heel, I climbed into the car, slamming the door shut before he could stop me again. As I pulled out of the garage, I caught a glimpse of him in my rearview mirror, standing there alone, his hands in his pockets and his expression unreadable.

When I finally made it home, I was too wound up to relax. His words echoed in my mind, uninvited and unwelcome. You can't keep running from me. As much as I hated to admit it, there was a part of me that wondered if he was right.

But no. I wasn't running. I was surviving.

And I wasn't about to let Nixus—or anyone else—pull me back into the life I'd fought so hard to leave behind.