She Choose Her Ex Over Me

The food had gone cold two hours ago.

The candlelight still flickered weakly across the dining table, throwing long shadows against the marble walls of the penthouse, but the warmth that once lived inside the apartment had disappeared long before the meal lost its heat.

Fred Morgan sat alone at the head of the table, unmoving.

A bowl of untouched seafood pasta rested in front of him beside a glass of wine he had poured for Daniella at exactly seven-thirty.

It was now 10:47 PM.

The city lights beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows painted Lagos in gold and silver beneath the rain, but Fred barely noticed the view anymore; his eyes remained fixed on the phone lying beside his plate.

Five missed calls, twelve unread messages.

All from the same sender, Elias, his assistant.

Another message appeared.

Urgent. The Zurich board refuses to proceed without your approval.

Fred locked the screen without replying. A moment later, another notification vibrated against the table.

The presidential office has requested confirmation for tomorrow’s meeting.

Fred exhaled slowly and leaned back in his chair. Tonight was their anniversary, eight years.

On their anniversary night, Daniella still was not home.

His gaze drifted toward the clock again before settling on the untouched bouquet of white roses sitting at the center of the table, her favorite flowers, or at least… they used to be.

The sound of thunder rolled outside. Fred reached for his wine glass, but before he could take a sip, his phone rang again.

This time, he answered. “What is it?” he asked quietly.

Elias sounded tense immediately. “Sir, the board members are becoming restless. We delayed the merger twice already. If you don’t attend tomorrow’s meeting personally, several international investors may pull out.”

Fred’s expression remained calm. “They can wait.”

A brief silence followed.

“Sir… this deal involves nearly four billion dollars.”

Fred glanced at the empty seat across from him. “I said they can wait.”

Elias lowered his voice carefully. “Is this about Mrs. Morgan again?”

Fred did not answer; that silence alone was enough confirmation.

The assistant sighed softly. “You cannot keep ignoring global operations every time she forgets to come home.”

Fred’s jaw tightened almost invisibly. “She didn’t forget.”

But even he no longer sounded convinced—another silence.

Then Elias spoke again, more cautiously this time. “There’s also the matter of the presidential office. They specifically requested your presence tomorrow evening.”

Fred rubbed his temple slowly. “Decline it.”

“Sir?”

“Tell them I’m unavailable.”

Elias sounded horrified. “Mr. Morgan… that’s the president.”

Fred’s eyes darkened slightly. “And?”

The line went silent because both men knew the truth: if Fred Morgan truly wished it, presidents waited for him, not the other way around.

Yet the most powerful man in the room was currently sitting alone beside cold pasta, waiting for a wife who no longer rushed home to him.

The irony would have been amusing if it had not hurt so much. “I’ll call tomorrow,” Fred said before ending the call.

The apartment fell silent again, too silent, the kind of silence that slowly suffocated people.

Fred stared at the anniversary gift sitting beside the flowers, A velvet box.

Inside was a custom diamond bracelet Daniella had casually mentioned months ago while scrolling through her phone. She had probably forgotten the conversation immediately afterward. Fred had not.

He remembered everything about her, and that was the problem.

A car door slammed outside. Fred’s eyes lifted instantly toward the entrance a few seconds later, heels clicked against marble floors beyond the hallway, then the door opened.

Daniella stepped inside, beautiful as always.

Her black dress hugged her figure perfectly, shimmering under the dim chandelier light. Raindrops clung to her hair and shoulders while expensive perfume drifted into the room.

For a moment, Fred simply looked at her because, despite everything, he still loved her, and maybe that was his greatest weakness.

Daniella stopped when she noticed the dining table. A flicker of surprise crossed her face before quickly disappearing. “Oh,” she said casually. “You cooked.”

Fred stood slowly. “You said you’d be home by eight.”

She tossed her purse onto the couch without looking at him. “The gala ran late.”

“You could’ve called.”

“I was busy, Fred.”

Her tone carried irritation now, as though his disappointment inconvenienced her.

Fred studied her quietly.

There had been a time when Daniella would rush into his arms the moment she got home.

A time when she used to smile at him before checking her phone, now she barely looked at him at all. “You didn’t eat?” he asked.

“I already had dinner.”

Something inside him sank further. Fred glanced at the untouched candles before forcing a faint nod. “I see.”

Daniella finally looked around properly and seemed to notice the anniversary setup for the first time; her expression shifted awkwardly. “Oh God… tonight was.”

“Our anniversary,” Fred finished gently.

Guilt flashed across her face briefly, but only briefly. “I completely forgot,” she admitted before sighing tiredly. “Fred, I’ve been under pressure all week.”

He gave a small smile despite the ache in his chest. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine because he had spent years pretending disappointment did not hurt him anymore.

Daniella walked toward the kitchen counter and poured herself water. “You really didn’t have to do all this,” she said. “You could’ve just ordered something.”

“I wanted to.”

“Well, you shouldn’t stress yourself over things like this.”

Things like this, Fred lowered his eyes. Eight years ago, she used to cry because he remembered the smallest details about her, but now his effort felt embarrassing.

Daniella took a sip before finally noticing the bracelet box. “You bought me something?”

Fred slid it toward her quietly.

For the first time that night, genuine emotion touched her face as she opened it the diamonds reflected beautifully beneath the chandelier light. “It’s gorgeous,” she admitted softly.

Fred watched her carefully, waiting and hoping for a meaningful reaction, but the moment vanished as quickly as it came.

“You shouldn’t spend money recklessly,” she said while closing the box. “We need to be careful with finances right now.”

Fred almost laughed at the irony. Careful with finances?.

If she knew the truth about the man sitting in front of her, the entire concept would sound absurd. Instead, he nodded.

Daniella loosened her heels before sitting across from him. “You know,” she said casually, “you really should think about doing something more with yourself.”

Fred looked at her quietly. “What do you mean?”

“You’re intelligent, Fred. But sometimes it feels like you’ve become too comfortable staying in the background.”

His chest tightened slightly. “I help where I can".

“Yes, but…” She hesitated before saying the words that finally cut deep. “Sometimes you act more like a househusband than an actual husband.”

The sentence landed between them heavily. Fred said nothing because it didn’t hurt, but because reacting would make it worse.

Daniella rubbed her forehead, clearly unaware of the damage she had just done.

“At the gala tonight, everyone was talking about ambition and expansion and success. Meanwhile, my husband spends his evenings cooking pasta.”

Fred stared at her for a long moment, and suddenly, the exhaustion inside him felt unbearable. Because she had no idea, no idea how many people feared his name, no idea how many industries moved because of a single decision from him, no idea the company she proudly called hers had secretly survived three financial disasters because of his intervention.

And still, the only thing she saw was a man waiting at home with dinner.

His phone buzzed again.

Daniella glanced at the screen briefly. “Who keeps calling you this late?”

“Work.”

She looked mildly surprised. “You?”

Before Fred could answer, the phone rang again. This time, he answered immediately.

A deep voice spoke from the other side. “Mr. Morgan, the president wishes to confirm tomorrow’s private meeting personally.”

Daniella froze slightly.

Fred’s expression never changed. “I won’t be attending."

“Sir, the president specifically rearranged his schedule for you."

“That’s unfortunate.”

Even the official sounded stunned by the response. “Should I… relay that message directly?”

“Yes.”

Fred ended the call calmly.

Daniella stared at him strangely. “Who was that?”

“Wrong number.”

She frowned slightly but eventually shrugged it off too easily. She had stopped truly seeing him a long time ago.

Daniella stood from the table and picked up her purse again. “I’m exhausted. I’m going upstairs.”

Fred nodded quietly.

She walked halfway toward the staircase before suddenly stopping. “Oh, I almost forgot.”

Something about her tone made Fred look up.

Daniella turned back casually. “You remember Tony, right?”

The name hit the room like broken glass. Fred’s fingers tightened unconsciously against the wine glass.

Tony. Her ex-boyfriend

The man she once believed she would marry before he disappeared from her life years ago.

Daniella smiled faintly. “He’s back in Lagos.”

For the first time in years, Fred felt something cold crawl into his chest. Not anger, not jealousy, something worse than Fear.

Because deep down, a terrifying part of him already knew, his wife had never truly forgotten that man.