He Swore He Hated Seafood, So Why Did His Lips Taste Like Oysters? - Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Life after divorce was ten thousand times better than I'd imagined.
With my share of the assets, I bought a small apartment in my parents' neighborhood and became their neighbor.
I also opened a tiny café, decorated exactly the way I liked it.
Business was steady but not booming—just enough to live comfortably.
By day I'd serve customers who came and went, listening to their different stories.
By night I'd close up shop and go to my parents' place for dinner.
Life was ordinary, but incredibly peaceful.
The genuine smile I'd lost in marriage had finally returned.
News about Nash reached me in bits and pieces through friends.
Apparently, he really had broken things off with Sofia.
But she didn't take it well—showed up at his office causing scenes several times until security finally dragged her out.
Apparently, his company was in trouble.
Several major projects had failed consecutively, cash flow had dried up. He was running around begging for investments, hitting wall after wall.
All those "friends" who used to buddy up to him now avoided him like the plague.
Once, I caught a glimpse of him at a business networking event.
He looked so much older, hair gone gray, shoulders slightly hunched—no longer the ambitious Nash from my memories.
He wandered through the crowd with a wine glass, wearing an obsequious, pathetic smile.
But nobody paid him any attention.
He saw me, hesitated for a moment like he might approach, then stopped.
We looked at each other across the noisy crowd.
Finally, he raised his glass to me with a smile uglier than tears, then turned and disappeared deeper into the crowd.
My heart?
No feelings at all.
The café's business gradually picked up.
One rainy afternoon, the door chimes rang.
I looked up to see someone unexpected.
Nash.
He hadn't brought an umbrella—soaked through, rainwater dripping from his hair, looking completely disheveled.
He stood in the doorway without entering, just staring at me.
The few customers scattered around the café all turned to look at him curiously.
I put down my book and walked over.
"Can I help you?" My tone was calm.
I had loved him once, but I didn't like dwelling on the past.
"Lila..." he began, his voice terribly hoarse. "I..."
"If you're here for coffee, you're welcome. If not, please leave. Don't interfere with my business."
His lips moved, his face full of pain and regret.
"I just... wanted to see you," he said quietly. "I heard you're doing well."
I nodded. "Yes, without you, I'm doing extremely well."
Those words hit him like a knife to the heart.
His body swayed, face turning deathly pale.
"I know I was wrong, Lila." He took a step forward, trying to grab my hand, but I dodged. "Give me another chance, please? Let's start over."
"Start over?" I laughed. "Nash, did you forget that my dad almost died because of you? Did you forget how you celebrated someone else's birthday on mine? Did you forget about that fishy smell on your clothes?"
With each sentence, his face grew paler.
By the end, he looked completely drained, standing there in defeat.
"I'm sorry..., I'm so sorry..."
"Your apologies are too late and too cheap," I said, enunciating each word clearly. "Nash, I will never give you another chance to hurt me. Never."
With that, I ignored him and returned to the counter.
He stood in the doorway for a very long time. Only after the rain stopped did he finally leave, looking lost and broken.
Watching his lonely figure, I felt completely calm.
Some wounds, once they've scarred over, stop hurting.
Some people, once you've lost them, it's forever.