Meeting My Ex (750 words)

Damn, he was actually coming over, through the crowd. I hadn't talked to him since the big fallout. That wasn't my fault; he had simply refused to communicate in any way. This had the potential to become a bit embarrassing.

"Lisa."

"Martin."

"You look good."

"Thank you." The looks I had received throughout the whole evening had confirmed his statement. "This could still be yours, Martin." I couldn't help pointing out the obvious.

"What?" he replied, as if not believing what he was hearing.

"If you hadn't run for the hills upon the first sign of trouble..."

"You call yourself boldly announcing out of the blue that you want to sleep with another man 'the first sign of trouble?' I'd call that a marital death sentence."

"Nothing had happened. It was just supposed to be a wakeup call."

"Great plan," he sarcastically added. "How did it work?"

"Not as intended, I admit that."

"I bet it hasn't. You're penniless and I've lost my wife. So, how's it going with him?" he said, looking like he might hope to see misery.

"He's at home..."

"Haha, I bet..." he interrupted me. I suddenly remembered how much I always hated it when he did that.

"...from time to time, like a decent partner. He's over there, by the way. He's actually married to me, not to his job." Damn, I didn't want to hurt him, but why did he have to attack me anyway? Everything was settled. We were divorced, which was about the last thing I wanted back then.

"Haha, I bet. A damn fitness trainer, for God's sake, Lisa. That's low, even for you. Couldn't you at least show some class? Some brainless muscle man with no cash? Don't you miss our dream vacations on Ko Samui?"

"Seriously? Even then you were always working and I was always rubbing one out, just like when we were at home." I could see that that one hit home.

"Lisa, we had sex from time to time, and it was good," he whined.

"Really? You could have fooled me, especially now that I have someone with whom to compare you."

"So, how's life while you're sitting in a shitty apartment, dreaming of our mansion, of luxury resorts and the fancy cars you used to have?"

"It's true, our apartment is quite small. Yes, we go on vacation locally. You seem to have forgotten that I relinquished getting any of your money in the divorce. For you, everything is about money; for me, it isn't. I would have given it all away for some of your time, while we were married.

"Martin, I didn't want to hurt you with what I did. Tim was in on it, he was just a friend back then. He was helping me with my final desperate wake-up call. Okay, it didn't work, but I didn't know what else to do. You refused to talk about it; instead, you bought me presents.

"To answer your question, yes, our apartment is small. We don't need much room, we stick together all the time anyway. Do I miss Ko Samui? Not really. We hike through the mountains and forests around and those are the best vacations I've ever had, not just because of the constant sex.

"No, I don't miss an overweight partner who has let himself go physically because money was his sole priority. I don't miss him rutting away on top of me for a few minutes, even in case it happened at least once during a two week stay in a luxury resort. I had no one to compare you to, then, but now I have.

"I've continued my studies, Martin. I'm going to be a doctor soon. I'm my own person again. I'm being loved, cherished, I'm happy. I admit that my plan to save our marriage was flawed and that it didn't work. I would never had left you and I would never have cheated. You just mumbled something about cuckolds, whatever that is, and ran for the hills without ever again talking to me. I sincerely thank you, Martin. So far, you've brought me the best two years of my life. It was the best thing you ever did for me. I hope your millions will keep you warm at night."

I left him standing there, his mouth still hanging open as my beautiful husband took me into his arms and greeted me with a kiss that made my knees wobbly. Boy, had I traded up.

Jezzaz had the brilliant idea to have us all write stories with exactly 750 words, which is the minimum word count allowed here. This is my contribution. Thanks to Blackrandl1958 for editing.

Bebop3 asked if I would mind if he wrote about the same events from the husband's perspective. His story is titled "Steppin' Stone," and is also part of the 750 Word Project effort.