Once His Now My Own Novel by SHAN

Stella’s POV

“I’ve seen tattoos on the chest, back, and arms, but on the upper thigh? That’s a new one,” I said with a smirk, letting the weight of my words hang in the air. “Honestly, I feel bad for holding you up.” And with that, I turned on my heel and left the island without looking back.

As I boarded the last bus, I caught a glimpse of Ethan racing after me in his sleek, silver Cullinan. He was honking the horn like a madman, his face twisted in desperation through the tinted glass. The rumble of the engine tried to match the pace of his frantic calls from one unfamiliar number after another. But I blocked them all without a second thought.

As the bus rounded the corner, a loud crash echoed from behind. I glanced at the window‘ s reflection and saw Ethan’s Cullinan crumpled into a roadside flowerbed, the front end mangled beyond recognition. The door flew open, and he stumbled out, sprinting after the bus like a man possessed. He ran, legs pumping, eyes wild, until he collapsed onto the pavement.

The following day, while my divorce lawyer and I were in the middle of a discussion about the final draft of the divorce agreement, Ethan’s friend called. His voice was riddled with guilt as he begged, “Stella, we… we screwed up. We should never have helped Ethan hide things from you. But can you please set aside your anger first? He‘ s… he‘ s in bad shape. Please come to the hospital.”

The plea felt distant, like a memory you can’t shake. I suddenly recalled the day last year when I had barely made it out of gallbladder surgery. Ethan had been there for a moment–long enough to get a call from Lily. She said they needed a fourth player for Monopoly. Without hesitation, he left me on the hospital bed and went to her. He never returned during my five days in the hospital, despite my calls. Every time I reached out, he always gave me one response.

Recalling that, I printed out the divorce agreement, let out a dry laugh, and repeated his words to me back then. “It’s just a little surgery. Stop being dramatic.”

When I returned home at 2 a.m., the last place I expected to find Ethan was sitting in my living room. He should’ve been in the hospital, but there he was–sinking into the sofa, looking every bit the broken man.

The moment he saw me, his face lit up with a mix of hope and desperation. He limped toward me, tears glistening in his eyes.

“Stella, I knew it. I knew you still cared.”

I stepped back, the distance between us feeling like an ocean. Slowly, I pulled the divorce papers from my bag and laid them on the coffee table. “Sign it, Ethan,” I said, my voice steady.

He looked down, his face crumpling as he read the bold words, Divorce Agreement. But then, as if nothing had happened, he gave a soft, heartbreaking smile and took my bag. “You haven’t eaten, right? Let me make you some pasta.

I watched him limp to the kitchen, muttering to himself, “No spicy food, I know. How does carbonara sound?”

Ethan had never cooked for me–not once. I used to think he just didn’t know how, being raised in luxury. But I had seen Lily post photo after photo of home–cooked meals made by his hands, filled with love and care.

That was when a realization hit me hard. He was never incapable. He just wouldn’t do it for me.

“Ethan, if you don‘ t sign, I’ll file for divorce through legal

proceedings,” I said, only to be ignored by him. He was busy fumbling with the pasta in the kitchen.

As such, I walked straight to the bedroom, locked the door, and left him to his self-made illusion.

I didn’t expect to live apart, but Ethan smoked on the balcony all night.

The next morning, the shrill ring of my phone jolted me awake. When I picked up my phone, I saw it was Jacob. Answering the phone, asked, “What is it, Jacob?”

“I’m just wondering if you know any jewelry designers. I have this. project which urgently needs one, so can you recommend someone to me?” he asked.

I had recently resigned and had nothing on my plate, so I replied, “How about me?”

“You? Really?” he asked, surprised.

“Yep, I’m a jewelry designer if you don’t know,” I said proudly.

Jacob’s laughter was a burst of warmth over the line. “That‘ sa surprise. Can’t wait to work with you, Stella.”

Unbeknownst to me, Ethan had overheard the entire conversation.

“Is that why you want a divorce? Because of him?” he asked, bitterness lacing every word.

I didn’t even bother to explain and simply said, “Think whatever you want.”

Before I could answer, the front door clicked open. Lily stumbled in, her dress hanging off her shoulder, eyes glazed with intoxication. She tottered toward Ethan, her lips trembling. “Ethan… why didn’t you answer my calls? I was scared… they forced me to drink…”

Ethan’s anger evaporated, replaced by guilt and concern. He looked at me, silently begging me to take Lily to the hospital.

I was about to refuse, but the earnestness in his eyes gave me pause.

“Please, Stella. Don’t make this a thing. Lily’s in a bad way.”

Wordlessly, I handed him his suit jacket. “Cover her up,” I said coldly.

Ethan gave me a small, grateful smile, as though I’d done something noble. “I knew my wife was the most understanding.” He picked Lily up in his arms, cradling her like she was the most fragile thing in the world.

I even saw the smug and provocative look in Lily’s eyes but I turned a blind eye to it and resolutely shut the door.

Five days had passed. No word from Ethan.

I poured myself into work, meeting Jacob to discuss the project.

“This time, the theme is women’s freedom. I believe in your abilities, Stella, so I’ll leave it—”

Jacob trailed off his words, looking behind me. As I turned around, I ́ saw Ethan approaching us, shaking off Lily‘ s hand.

“Stella, why didn’t you tell me you were having dinner with him?” Ethan demanded.

Lily’s voice was shrill as she chimed in, “How could you do this, Stella? On Ethan’s birthday no less? And with another man?”

I blinked, the memory of last year’s birthday crashing over me. I had waited for him, prepared a meal, lit candles, and poured wine, but he never came. When I found him at a karaoke bar with Lily, he only laughed in my face, insulting, “You stupid, ugly hag. It’s my birthday, not yours. I can spend it with whoever I want.”

At this moment, the restaurant was silent, all eyes on us.

I smiled softly, a bitter edge to my words. “Ethan, I’ve already asked you to sign the divorce papers. So, I’ll have dinner with whoever I damn well please.”