He Dismissed Me As A Delivery Rider, Then Regretted Deeply

Synopsis

Six years after our divorce, I ran into Nathan Ford at the entrance of my alma mater. I sat on my scooter and passed him his food delivery. He was in a tailored suit, Porsche keys twirling between his fingers, and looked me up and down, completely stunned. He blurted out, "Luna? You're out of prison?" I answered, all business, "Mr. Ford, your order's arrived." But Nathan lost his composure, ignoring the delivery bag and grabbing my wrist. "A world-class pianist's hands are meant to create music, not do manual labor," he said. I twisted my wrist calmly, revealing several long scars. "Thanks to you, I can't play the piano anymore," I said. His breath caught. He pressed a bank card into my hand and said firmly, "It's snowing out. Riding your scooter isn't safe. Stop taking orders, okay?" I pulled my hand away, letting the card drop to the ground. Nathan's voice was tinged with bitterness. "You really hate me that much? You'd rather run deliveries than take my money?" I shook my head with a wry smile. Why would I love or hate someone who'd already faded from my memory?