All Chapters of THE PILOT'S EX WIFE: Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

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

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

“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

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

I almost drowned while taking a shower.I stand up with difficulty, my legs heavy, my body aching and stiff from the position I was in. The water runs off me, dripping onto the bathroom floor and forming small puddles that reflect the dim light. I run my hands over my face, trying to shake off the numbness that still weighs on me.My muscles are tense, like my body is protesting what I just did. Sleeping in the bathtub? What kind of idiot does that?I wrap myself in the towel hanging nearby, the fabric rough against my chilled skin. The exhaustion is still overwhelming, but now it’s mixed with the adrenaline of fright. I sit on the edge of the tub for a moment, letting my head fall into my hands. It’s almost over. And for a brief second, I can’t tell if that scares me or relieves me.I wrap myself in the cotton robe that’s hanging in the bathroom. The soft fabric covers my still-damp skin, but it doesn’t do much to ward off the chill I feel inside. I leave the bathroom and start walki