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THE PILOT'S EX WIFE 182
The racetrack is packed to the rafters, a bustling, vibrant tide of people, and I feel a little overwhelmed by the noise and energy. People all around us are shouting, cheering on their favorite drivers as the machines roar down the track.In the midst of all this confusion, I hold Miguel's hand, and his little heart beats with contagious excitement.“Look there, uncle!” Miguel shouts, his eyes shining as if he were in front of one of his miniature toy races, but on a monumental scale.Unfortunately, all the good seats have already been taken.Then, with an eager smile, I decide to put him on my shoulders. “There you go, champ! Now you can see everything!”Miguel bursts into euphoric joy, his cries of excitement echoing through the crowd. The feel of his small body settling on my shoulders brings me unexpected joy. I look up to where his radiant face shines in the sunlight, and wonder if perhaps I did the right thing in bringing him here.“See? It’s all amazing, isn’t it?” I say, tryi
Last Updated : 2024-11-15THE PILOT'S EX WIFE 183
My heart is racing, and I can feel the pounding in my ears. The crowd that once seemed so vibrant is now a sea of strange faces, and each passing second feels like an eternity. I move faster, looking desperately at every corner, every face, as the pressure in my chest intensifies.“Miguel! Where are you?” I shout, my voice almost breaking.The celebrations fade into a distant noise, and the joy of the people seems to mock my despair. It's a horrible feeling, being so close to something everyone loves and at the same time feeling like I am about to lose the most precious thing I have. The only thing I want is to find it before it's too late.**BLAIR'S POV“Miss Collins, I just need to ask you a few more questions,” the officer says, but his voice echoes as if it’s coming from far away. It’s like a distorted dream, a nightmare I can’t wake up from.I lost my son.Reality slowly unfolds, and each word he utters becomes a crushing weight on my chest. Panic and pain intertwine, and the id
Last Updated : 2024-11-16THE PILOT'S EX WIFE 184
I sit in front of the window, watching the rain fall as if each drop carries a piece of my sorrow. The air is thick, almost difficult to breathe, and I feel a deep tightness in my chest when I think about Miguel… about where he is. , who he might be with now. The tea in my hands has already gone cold; it is nothing more than a ghost of warmth, like a memory of something that once warmed me.Drake went to his room, saying he needed to sleep. But I know the weight he carries now, the guilt that consumes him like a shadow that won't let him rest. Losing his own nephew... He martyrs himself in silence, but I know that despair and exhaustion will keep him awake, trapped in his own thoughts.I don't blame him, I never could.This is my fault, like a knife that I stab myself incessantly.What if I had said no, what if I had forbidden Miguel from watching those races?If I had never let him be enchanted by Ethan Banks tearing up the dance floor, with that sparkle in his eyes that promised som
Last Updated : 2024-11-17THE PILOT'S EX WIFE 185
In our silence, we beg for a miracle. For a second, no one moves. My heart beats so fast that I can feel the pulse in my temples, a rhythmic beat between despair and hope.I leave the cup forgotten on the side table and rush towards the door, my hurried footsteps echoing through the empty hallway. I hear Drake's footsteps right behind me; he also runs, caught up in the same silent prayer.I grab the handle with trembling hands, and as I open the door, I brace myself for anything but the sight I find before me.The first thing I see are those blue eyes… my son’s eyes. Deep, bright, so familiar I feel the ground melt beneath me.“Son…” My voice comes out in a choked cry, full of relief and disbelief.I can’t hold it back. I step forward and kneel in the hallway, throwing myself into his arms, the warmth of his body filling the emptiness that has consumed me for so long. “God, thank you. Thank you…” The words come out of me in a rush, and all I can do is hold him tight, smelling his skin
Last Updated : 2024-11-17THE PILOT'S EX WIFE 186
"At that moment, I almost fell over backwards. Because that boy, Blair," he points to the door behind me, his voice low and measured, "is the exact copy of Ethan Banks. Same look. Same eyes. Same fire. But I thought I was going crazy. Because Blair… Blair had been dead for years."With every word he says, the truth throbs in my chest, mixed with fear and anger.He takes another step, invading the space between us, and everything inside me wants to recoil, but I hold my ground. “I needed to know. I needed to prove to myself that it was just a coincidence,” he continues, his voice sounding closer and closer. “Just some random boy, with black hair and blue eyes. A mother named Blair. A boy with a burning passion for cars, like so many others.”He takes another step forward, and I feel my heart race.Carter is now so close that I can almost feel the heat of his breath.“I took the boy out to dinner,” he murmurs, his voice unnervingly calm. “We talked, we laughed. He called me Uncle Joseph
Last Updated : 2024-11-18THE PILOT'S EX WIFE 187
“I won’t hide this from Ethan,” he repeats, his voice low but firm. “Because from the day he heard the news of your death, I lost him. We all lost him. Ethan became a living dead, Blair. He never smiled again, never joked again, never ate again without being forced to. He said goodbye to the world with you.”His words pierce my chest, the image of Ethan closing himself off in a bitter, eternal loneliness dancing in my mind. And, despite myself, I feel a familiar ache, a guilt I've never been able to completely quell.“Imagine,” Carter continues, his voice barely above a whisper, “what Ethan would give to know that you’re alive. That he has a son.”The words hang between us, carrying an impossible weight. The thought of Ethan, broken and consumed by loss, is something I’ve avoided facing for all these years. I’ve kept my distance, believing that this distance was what’s best for everyone, that the life Miguel and I led was enough, safe. But now, faced with Carter’s words, every barrier
Last Updated : 2024-11-20THE PILOT'S EX WIFE 188
“He wouldn’t be able to do that,” he says, his voice low, as if trying to put an end to it.I choke on the anger, my breath coming in quick pants, my eyes fixed on his with a burning fury. “It was his car, Carter. His damn car!” My body trembles, gripped by a consuming dread. “That night, I knew. I knew that if I didn’t leave, he wouldn’t stop. And you come here, telling me what I lived through, what I saw with my own eyes?”The silence is piercing, so thick that I can hear the sound of my own heart hammering. Carter stares at me, his face now pale, as if he’s finally absorbing what he’s heard. He releases my hands slowly, but doesn’t look away, as if for the first time he’s beginning to comprehend the extent of the gulf between us.“His car?” Carter whispers, as if the words are so heavy he can barely get them out.I stare at him, feeling the pain that hasn’t healed yet, the terror of that night washing over me again. “He tried to run me over,” I say, the words coming out shallow but
Last Updated : 2024-11-20THE PILOT'S EX WIFE 189
ETHAN'S POV1 MONTH LATER“You may not know this, but you’re not Superman,” Carter says as he walks into my office, balancing a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. His tone is a mix of sarcasm and genuine concern. “You need to eat, drink, and, hey, sleep.”I look up from my computer screen, blinking against the morning light that floods the room. When he mentions sleeping, I realize with a start that it’s already daylight. The blinds are barely closed, and a golden beam of light cuts across the room, illuminating the clutter of papers and empty mugs around me.“Thank you,” I murmur, taking the cup he offers me. The caffeine feels like the promise of a miracle now. I lift the liquid to my lips, ready for the hot, bitter blast that will keep me going for a few more hours.But the first drop hits my tongue, and I stop. I frown. “What the fuck?” I drop the cup on the table with a thud.“Chamomile tea,” he replies, unfazed, as he slumps into one of the office chairs. He crosses his arms a
Last Updated : 2024-11-20
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There’s a pause, and in the silence I feel the weight of everything he’s not saying. The desperation of searching for someone the whole world said was lost. The crushing hope, followed by the crumbling, each time he thought he’d found me only to discover it was someone else. The pain of living between belief and resignation, over and over again.His fingers, still hovering in the air, finally move. They touch my face, light and hesitant, as if he fears I might disappear at any moment. The touch is warm, but his fingers tremble, and it breaks something inside me.He's trying to be strong, but he can't hide the vulnerability that pulsates beneath the surface."It's you now," he says, and the certainty in his voice is almost palpable. As if, after so long, he can finally breathe.He smiles, but the smile isn’t what I remember. It’s not confident or charming. It’s small, fragile, and so full of sadness that it stings my eyes.There's something devastating about seeing him like this. That
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My head moves slowly, against my will, as if an invisible thread were pulling me towards him. I don't want to look. I don't want to see. But fear and curiosity push me towards the inevitable realization that he is there, real, so close that even the air seems charged with his presence.My gaze first drops to the floor, to his shoes. A pair of casual sneakers, simple but they bring back memories that refuse to stay buried. Then my eyes move up to his legs. Black jeans, fitted, worn at the knees as if they’ve survived more than just time.My heart races, but I keep going. I glance down at his torso, noticing the dark sweater he’s wearing, elegant but in a casual way that only Ethan can pull off. He never had to try so hard to look… dangerous and attractive at the same time. He just was.It takes me longer than it should to look up at his face. As if my subconscious knew that this would be the point of no return. When I finally allow myself to look, I feel my heart almost stop.His beard
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BLAIR'S POVI walk quickly through the parking lot of the building, rummaging through my bag for my car keys. The dim light from the overhead lights creates shadows that dance on the floor, but my attention is completely focused on finding the keychain.If the traffic is okay today (a miracle, considering the time of day) I can still make it to school in time to pick up Miguel and take him home. He hates it when I'm late, and he doesn't spare me the frustrated look, but maybe I can make up for it with a pizza for dinner. That usually works.Finally, my fingers touch the cold metal of the key, and a relieved sigh escapes my lips. I continue walking, my thoughts already moving on to what Miguel might choose as a topping for the pizza this time… pepperoni, perhaps?But as I turn the corner where my car is parked, something makes the world around me slow down.There’s my car, exactly where it should be. But next to it, taking up my parking space, is a black SUV that immediately catches my
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"You were out of your mind that night." He looks at me now, his gaze a mixture of anger and pity. "And that's what happened. It was your car that hit her, Banks."The revelation hits me like a punch to the chest. “What?” I repeat, louder this time, my disbelief boiling over. “My car? Carter, my car?!” My voice rises, wavering between anger and desperation.“She would never feel safe with you again,” he says, his words cutting like knives. “After this, how could she?”My breathing quickens, and for a moment I feel like the world around me is falling apart. The air seems to escape my lungs, my mind in absolute chaos. Carter takes a step back, but I follow him, staring at him as if he’s the only thing still solid in my reality."What the fuck are you saying, Carter? My car…?" My voice breaks, begging for an answer I don't want to hear.I fall to my knees on the sidewalk, as if my legs can no longer support the weight of this revelation. My fingers tangle in my hair, pulling hard, as if t
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When I finally stop, my body is panting, my hands shaking from the impact. I look at Carter, who is on the ground, his face swollen and blood dripping from his lips.He doesn't move.He doesn't say anything.He just stands there, staring at me with a look of sadness, of regret.“I… I knew it,” he says, his voice weak.I don’t answer, I have no words. The anger that consumed me before fades, and in its place comes a deep emptiness, as if the world has lost all meaning. I stand, looking at Carter on the floor. Each breath feels harder, heavier.What do I do now?I feel my body weaken. My legs shake, and the pain in my hand from punching so much spreads through my body. I try to breathe, but the pressure in my chest won't go away. And the only thought that runs through my mind is the emptiness of knowing that Blair is still alive, and I don't know what to do with that.I don't know what to do with the rest of my life.Carter struggles to his feet, running a hand over his jaw with a paine
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I saw Blair. Or at least, I think I did. My mind no longer knows how to distinguish what is real from what is not. And while I stand there, lost in my own memories and hallucinations, Carter remains silent, his gaze fixed on me, unable to find words that could bring back what is already lost.He knows what's going on, but he doesn't know how to deal with it.He lowers his head, as if the very idea of saying the words is an unbearable weight. His voice is low, barely audible, but still, it seems to cut through the air between us, making everything around us disappear. "She's alive," he says, so quietly that for a moment I wonder if it's me, in my shattered sanity, who's imagining it all."What?" My voice is hoarse, a reflection of the disbelief that begins to take hold of me.He doesn't look at me, his eyes fixed on the floor, as if the words that just left his mouth were a condemnation. "You're not crazy, brother," he says with the same seriousness, but with a tone of regret. "Blair i
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The valet hesitates, looking at the now-gone car, and shakes his head, clearly confused. "I... I'm not sure. No one important, sir."Nobody important?“No,” I breathe deeply, trying to control the rising panic. “No, I know what I saw. She was important.” The emptiness of the street around me seems to grow, to swallow me. I no longer know if I’m speaking to him or to myself."Ethan!" Carter is behind me now, his voice full of concern and something else. He reaches out to me, taking my arm. "What are you doing? What's going on?"I look at him, my face tense, anger and fear mixed together. "She was here. She was here," I hiss, unsure if he'll understand the depth of what I'm saying."Who?" Carter asks, his voice low, full of confusion and concern.He cups my face in his hands, as if trying to check if I'm feverish, if my mind is somewhere far away. His fingers press against my skin, but I barely feel them."Blair," I whisper, almost as if my voice is a distant memory, an attempt to captu
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She finishes the glass in a single gulp, her gaze fixed on the horizon, as if she were losing herself in the lights of the city below. I follow her, drinking in her image, still immersed in my own thoughts."Good wines are not wasted," she murmurs with a seductive smile, her red lips almost provocative. The flirtation is clear, and for a moment, I find myself contemplating whether this is what I really want. But soon the answer comes silently: I am no longer the man who fell for this kind of game.When was the last time I was with a woman? The question resurfaces in my mind, and I know the answer. I know Blair was the last. There has never been another after her, despite the attempts, the distractions. No woman has been able to replace the space she left, not even for a moment. It grips me, swallows me, in a way I don't know how to escape."It's not wasted," I confirm, more to myself than to her. The sound of my own voice seems distant.The blonde steps forward, her plunging neckline
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“I’m developing a new sparkling wine brand,” says Cortez, a big-time alcoholic entrepreneur, in a tone of voice so enthusiastic that I almost feel guilty for not showing the slightest interest. “You know, I’m not new to the business. I thought we could do a campaign together. Something big.”I feign interest, crossing my arms and smiling, even though my mind has already begun to wander away from the conversation. “What were you thinking about?” I ask, my tone calculated with curiosity, so as not to seem disinterested.“Something you could incorporate into racing, you know?” Cortez continues, his voice growing even more animated. “Like, throwing champagne in the air when you win a race. That classic gesture, but with our own brand.” He smiles, pleased with the idea, as if he’s offering me a golden opportunity.I watch him intently for a few seconds, but soon I start to let his words fade into the background of my mind. He keeps babbling, but his words are like distant noises now. I'm n
