My Ex-Husband Begged Me to Take Him Back - Chapter 217

Chapter 217: Dinner together Chapter 217: Dinner together When Dylan entered the dining area, the aroma of freshly prepared food greeted him.

His gaze fell on the neatly set table.

His heart stirred when he saw his favorite dishes-grilled steak, cheesy pasta, and a generous serving of shrimp.

But then, a memory flickered in his mind.

‘Ava is allergic to seafood.’ He looked at her with astonishment.

“Why did you cook shrimps?” he asked.

“You’re allergic to it, aren’t you?” Ava gently pushed the plate toward him.

“It’s for you,” she said softly.

“I haven’t thanked you yet for saving my father.

This is my way of expressing gratitude.” Her sincerity tugged at his heart.

For a brief moment, Dylan allowed himself to hope.

Perhaps she might reconsider her stance and give their relationship another chance.

He was happy.

His gaze scanned the dishes on the table, wondering what she had prepared for herself.

Every dish was something he loved.

But he noticed the absence of anything Ava usually enjoyed.

“Why didn’t you prepare what you like to eat?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“As I said, I wanted to thank you.” Her answer came quickly, without hesitation.

“This is my way to express my gratitude.

And I like cheese pasta and will also have a piece of steak.” Her calm explanation didn’t completely soothe Dylan.

While her gesture touched him deeply, it also reminded him of how much he had hurt her in the past.

This was how it had always been-Ava cooking his favorite meals, setting aside her own preferences without hesitation.

She’d smile through it all, eating as though it brought her the same joy it gave him, never uttering a single complaint.

Back then, he had been blind to her sacrifices, deaf to the quiet way she loved him.

He had failed to notice her unspoken gestures or appreciate the effort she poured into making him happy.

Now, as he sat here, the weight of his past indifference pressed heavily on his chest, filling his throat with a lump that refused to go away.

Lowering his head, he started eating with fervent as if he were eating that food for the first time in his life.

“It’s good,” he said as he chewed hurriedly.

“Really good.” Each bite felt heavier than the last, not because of the food but because of the memories and regret it unearthed.

Hearing his words, her smile faded slowly.

Dylan’s compliment only reminded her of the countless times she had waited for him in vain, staring at meals that had grown cold.

The memory of sitting alone at the dinner table, night after night, stung anew.

Even when he had returned on time and had dinner with her, he had barely acknowledged her efforts, let alone appreciated them.

Now, as he praised her cooking and ate with enthusiasm, Ava couldn’t shake the bitterness that lingered in her heart.

She tried to focus on the present, on this changed Dylan sitting before her, not the one who had taken her for granted.

But it was harder than she thought, and her appetite faded.

She just kept staring at the dishes displayed on the table.

Sensing she wasn’t eating anything, Dylan paused mid-bite and glanced up.

“If you don’t feel like eating, don’t force yourself,” he said gently.

“I’ll make something else for you.” His words pulled her back to the present, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“No, no, there is no need.

I’m eating,” she said quickly, filling her plate with pasta and taking a bite.

Dylan, unaware of her inner turmoil, resumed eating.

When they finished, Ava instinctively began gathering the dishes, but Dylan stopped her.

“Leave them to me,” he said, taking a plate from her hands.

“You cooked; now it’s my turn.

Go rest.

I’ll take care of this.” Ava blinked, stunned.

Dylan cleaning up after dinner?

The image seemed so out of place, so at odds with the man she once knew, that it almost felt surreal.

“I’ll do it,” she said hesitantly, unsure how serious he was.

“I can handle it,” he insisted.

“Go and rest.

I’ll clean the dishes and organize the kitchen properly.” He gave her a reassuring nod.

She stood there, speechless, her mind grappling with the sight of Dylan calmly gathering plates and utensils.

At the same time, she was intrigued.

She wanted to see how he would do all this.

“Fine, but don’t break anything,” she warned.

With a faint smile, she turned toward her room.

Yet curiosity tugged at her, and she paused in the hallway, glancing back to see him carrying the plates to the kitchen.

‘Am I seeing things?’ she wondered in her mind, hardly could believe what she was seeing.

The Dylan she knew never would have done this.

And yet, here he was, stepping into the kitchen as though it were the most natural thing he often did.

While Dylan continued cleaning the dishes, Ava stood beneath the shower, the warm water cascading over her, her thoughts kept drifting to Dylan.

His transformation was undeniable-his once-cold demeanor had given way to a tenderness she had never expected.

He was patient, caring, and attentive now, qualities she had longed for during their marriage.

‘If he stays like this, he could truly be a good husband,’ she mused, her heart betraying a slight flutter.

But as quickly as the thought arose, a sharp voice in her mind cut through the warmth.

‘What are you doing?

You’re divorced.

There’s no going back.’ Her smile vanished, and the heaviness of the past came rushing back.

No matter how much he had changed, the scars he left on her heart couldn’t be erased so easily.

She shook her head as if dispelling the thought.

Reaching for the shower gel, she lathered the sponge and scrubbed her skin.

Suddenly, the bathroom was plunged into pitch darkness.

The lights had gone out without warning, and Ava froze mid-motion.

“Ava, don’t wander around!” Dylan’s voice echoed in the house.

“Stay where you are.

I’ll check the fuse.” Ava let out a shaky breath and turned off the shower.

Water droplets clung to her skin.

The inky darkness pressed against her, disorienting her.

She didn’t want to stay in the bathroom, not when she couldn’t see a thing.

She stepped out of the shower cautiously, her hands extended in front of her.

She took each step tentatively and reached for the hanger where the towel should be, her fingers groping through the void.

She moved a little forward, hoping to get the towel.

Then, her foot slipped, and she tumbled to the floor with a dull, painful thud.

“Ah!” A cry escaped her mouth.