My Ex Husbands Nemesis Is My New Husband

Four years of college dating. Three years of marriage. And then, on a Tuesday that was aggressively ordinary, Grant dropped the bomb.
I asked him why, my voice trembling in a way I hated. His response was terrifyingly calm, a CEO firing an underperforming intern.
You live in sweatpants, Nora. Your hair is always in that same messy bun. You refuse to wear makeup when I take you to client dinners. And our anniversary? Its always the same homemade spaghetti.
He adjusted his cufflinks, looking through me. "I am done with this repetitive, beige existence."
That night, we slept in separate rooms. We didn't speak. And neither of us noticed the pilot light on the vintage gas stove in the kitchen had flickered out, while the gas kept running.
The explosion took the house, and us, instantly.
When I woke upalive, breathing, and inexplicably back in timeI realized Grant had come back too. We never spoke of it. We just severed ties with a silent, mutual efficiency.
Until the high school reunion.
He walked in with his arm around a girl named Sienna, looking like the poster couple for Town & Country.
"Nora," my friend Jess nudged me, wine glass tilting dangerously. "Grants dated half the cheerleading squad since graduation. Why haven't you found anyone?"
I smiled, swirling the ice in my water. "Who says I haven't? Im getting married next month. You should come."
1
The words had barely left my lips when Grant guided Sienna to our table.
The air in the room shifted. A dozen pairs of eyes darted between us like we were a spectator sport. Three years ago, we were the golden couple, the prom king and queen who actually made it. Then, post-graduation silence.
I stared at the tablecloth, trying to make myself small. Of all the empty seats in the banquet hall, Sienna pulled Grant into the ones directly next to me.
The tension was thick enough to choke on. The class president, trying to salvage the mood, raised a pitcher of beer.
"Alright, gang's all here! Let's do a round!"
He moved to fill the glass in front of me.
"Shes allergic to alcohol. She can't drink that."
Grant's voice cut through the noise, sharp and instinctive. The table went dead silent. Everyone knew about my severe intolerance; it was a defining trait of my college years.
Grant cleared his throat, realizing his slip. He grabbed his own glass and downed it, a frown etching lines into his forehead.
Beside him, Siennas smile faltered, brittle as dried leaves. She laughed, a high, forced sound.
"Oh, silly me. I almost forgot Grant was talking about me," she lied, clinging to his arm. "My immune system has been so weak lately; the doctor said alcohol might trigger a reaction."
The table erupted in polite, awkward laughter, making jokes about Grant being such a protective boyfriend.
I felt a wave of exhaustion. "Excuse me," I said, standing up. "Restroom."
I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the past. When I stepped back into the hallway, Grant was there, leaning against the wall, a cigarette burning between his fingers.
Seeing me, he immediately crushed the cigarette against the sole of his shoe.
He stared at the smoldering butt, freezing for a second. I hated smoke. In our old life, Grant never smoked around me. If he indulged, he would stand outside on the porch for thirty minutes, letting the wind strip the scent away before coming near me.
I loved him then. I felt nothing now.
I tried to walk past him without a glance, but his hand shot out, gripping my wrist.
He leaned in, the smell of tobacco and expensive cologne invading my space.
"Nora. Did you hear I was coming? Is that why you're here?" His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "What? Want to try again?"
I yanked my hand away, looking at him with genuine amusement.
"Grant, you are hallucinating."
He took a half-step back but blocked my path, his jaw tight.
"Fine. Better that way. Saves me the trouble of rejecting you. By the way, I heard you're working at City General. Im surprised. I didn't think you had it in you to actually hold down a job."
I ignored the barb. Id heard it all before in our first life. During our worst fights, he called me a parasite. He said Id die without him, that I was just a pet he kept fed and housed.
"Grant?" Siennas voice echoed from the banquet hall. "Where are you? We're leaving!"
Grant didn't say another word. He turned on his heel and walked away.
2
The second time I saw Grant was strictly professional.
His conglomerate was donating a fleet of MRI machines to our hospital.
In the conference room, I stood by the projection screen, my voice steady as I ran through the hospital's history and accolades. Grant sat in the front row, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the mahogany table.
The Chief of Staff called his name twice before he blinked, snapping out of a trance. His eyes had been fixed on my face, clouded with a strange confusion.
"Must be Dr. Vances captivating presentation," the Chief joked nervously.
People chuckled. The tension broke.
When the meeting ended, I exhaled a breath I felt Id been holding for an hour. My only goal was to escape.
"Nora," the Department Head intercepted me at the door. "Dinner tonight with the donors. Mandatory attendance."
That evening, I tried to slide into the seat furthest from the head of the table at the steakhouse.
"Sit here."
Grants voice wasn't a request. He pulled out the chair directly next to him, his eyes locking onto mine.
The room went quiet for a heartbeat.
"I want to hear more about the hospital's logistics," he added slowly, daring me to contradict him. "Dr. Vance wouldn't mind, would she?"
He had cornered me. The Department Head practically shoved me into the chair, signaling me with frantic eyes to play nice.
I sat, stiff as a board, every nerve ending screaming run.
Halfway through the meal, a serving spoon hovered over my plate. A large scoop of lobster risotto landed in front of me.
"I remember you love lobster risotto," Grant said, his voice dropping to that intimate register again. "This place has the best in Chicago. Eat."
I stared at the creamy rice, the chunks of rich meat. A sudden sting pricked my nose.
Not for him. For me.
I hated lobster. I hated the texture.
But Grant loved it. So, for seven years, it became our favorite. Just like I stopped eating fish because he disliked the smell, even though I grew up by the coast.
Grant didn't know me. He only knew the reflection of himself he had forced me to become.
I didn't pick up my fork. Under the table, a warm hand covered mine.
It felt like a branding iron.
I jerked up, my chair screeching against the floorboards.
Clatter.
My sudden movement knocked the silverware off the table. The room froze. Everyone stared.
I pressed my lips together, fighting the tremor in my voice.
"I apologize. Im not feeling well. I need to go."
And then, I fled.
3
In the back of the Uber, I scrubbed the back of my hand with a wet wipe until the skin turned raw and red.
It stung, but the physical pain was better than the nausea rolling in my stomach.
The moment I walked into my apartment, an unknown number flashed on my phone screen.
I swiped answer. Grants voice filled the quiet room, sounding slightly unhinged.
"Nora. You still feel it, don't you?"
He sounded so sure of himself.
"If you didn't, why did you freak out tonight?"
I hadn't eaten all day, and my stomach was cramping violently. I didn't have the energy to scream.
"Grant. I am married."
A scoff cracked through the speaker. Pure derision.
"Married? At least come up with a believable lie. Who else could possibly give you the life you want?"
"You think that hospital salary is going to buy you a brownstone in the Gold Coast? You think youll be wearing designer silk on a residents pay?"
"Admit it, Nora. You're just punishing me for not calling you sooner."
"But you didn't call me either, did you?"
I let out a dry, incredulous laugh, digging through my drawer for my stomach meds.
"Grant, when two adults don't speak for years, thats called a breakup."
"I am asking you, for the last time, stay out of my life."
I hung up, tossed the phone onto the sofa, and dry-swallowed two pills. I lay back, closing my eyes, waiting for the silence to heal me.
4
The next morning, the stomach cramps had faded to a dull ache, but my head was pounding.
The door to my exam room swung open. Grant walked in, guiding Sienna.
I didn't even blink. I put on my doctor face.
"What seems to be the problem?"
Sienna leaned into Grants chest, giggling softly. "Doctor, Ive been so nauseous lately. Throwing up in the mornings."
I wrote out a lab slip without looking up. "Go to the lab. Get a blood draw."
An hour later, I held the results. My voice was clinical, devoid of emotion.
"You're pregnant."
Siennas face lit up like a Christmas tree. She grabbed Grants bicep. "Grant! Did you hear? We're having a baby!"
Grant didn't look at her. His eyes were laser-focused on me, burning with intensity.
I ignored him, going through the standard script about prenatal vitamins and scheduling the next ultrasound.
"Do you have any questions?" I asked, picking up my pen.
"Get rid of it," Grant said.
Siennas smile shattered. Tears welled up instantly. "What? Grant, why? Why don't you want our baby?"
Grants voice was flat, final. "I said no. That means no. There is no 'why'."
Sienna followed his gaze. She looked at him, then at me. The realization hit her like a physical blow.
"Its her, isn't it? Grant, look at me! Is it because of this bitch?"
"You broke up years ago! I am your girlfriend!"
Grant frowned, annoyed by the scene. "Now isn't the right time for a child. I need to focus on the merger."
"Lies! It's all lies!"
Sienna screamed, lunging across the desk.
Rrrrip.
She snatched the medical file from my hands and tore it in half. Paper rained down like confetti.
"You whore! Did you seduce him? Is that why he won't touch me? Is that why he wants to kill my baby?"
Smack!
The slap caught me off guard. My glasses flew off my face, skittering across the tile floor. One lens shattered.
My ear rang with a high-pitched whine.
Grants face went pale. He grabbed Sienna, pulling her into a hug, his voice dropping to a soothing murmur.
"Okay, okay. Calm down. Its bad for the baby."
"If you want it that much, fine. Keep it."
He wrapped his arm around the sobbing woman and turned to leave.
"Stop."
They froze.
I bent down, picked up my broken frames, and placed them on the desk. Then, looking straight at them, I picked up the landline and dialed 911.
5
The police station was a drab gray box fluorescent-lit and smelling of stale coffee. Grant sat on a bench, holding Sienna, whispering comforts.
I sat alone on the opposite side.
My left cheek was swollen, pulsing with heat. I ran my tongue over a cut inside my mouth, tasting copper.
An officer walked over, looking weary. "Ma'am, if you don't accept mediation and insist on pressing charges, Ms. Miller could be facing assault charges. Its a serious offense."
Sienna heard this and dissolved into theatrics, clutching Grants lapels. "Grant, Im scared... it was just hormones... I didn't mean it..."
Grant patted her back, then looked at me. His eyes were cold, filled with the arrogance of a man who had never been told 'no'.
"Name your price, Nora. How much to make this go away?"
I tried to speak, but my jaw ached.
He hadn't changed. Not one bit. When you amused him, you were a queen. When you inconvenienced him, you were debris.
I looked him in the eye.
"I don't settle."
Grant sighed, like a parent dealing with a toddler's tantrum. "Nora, don't push it."
"It was one slap. Take the check and stop making a scene."
"I don't want your money," I said, enunciating every syllable. "I am pressing charges. I will not forgive this."
Grants jaw tightened. He pulled out his phone and speed-dialed his legal team.
His lawyer arrived in twenty minutesa shark in a three-thousand-dollar suit. He started listing reasons why a "simple misunderstandings" shouldn't ruin a young mother's life.
Then my phone rang.
It was the Department Head.
"Nora! You need to drop this immediately. Make peace with Mr. Lockwood. If you don't, consider your tenure review cancelled. In fact, consider your job gone."
It was Grants move. Threatening my livelihood.
"Fine," I said into the phone. "I quit."
Ten minutes later, the station doors burst open. The Head of HR and two administrators from the hospital stormed in.
"Dr. Vance!" The HR director barked. "You are causing a PR nightmare! People are saying you're a homewrecker who got into a brawl with a pregnant patient!"
"Our stock dropped two points! If you don't settle this and issue a public apology, we will sue you for breach of contract and damages. Well ruin you!"
I stood there, surrounded, the walls closing in.
Then, a voice cut through the chaos from the entrance.
"Id like to see you try."

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