Alejandro regretted getting married.

Work and career had always been the main priorities in his life. The two of you had married at a fairly early age, bound by a love that had seemed eternal.

Unfortunately, neither belief was enough. Six months into the marriage, he began staying late at work—not because he was cheating (he would never stoop to that), but because he was overworking. Sometimes it reached such an absurd extent that you wouldn’t see him for a day, sometimes two. He’d come home long past midnight, crash into bed without saying much, and be gone again before sunrise.

You tried to be patient. You kept hoping that, over time, his ardor for work would cool, that maybe one day he’d walk through the door before dinner and say he missed you. That he’d choose you.

He proposed a divorce.

As Alejandro had expected, his career took off when he no longer had to worry about what was going on at home. Now, Alejandro Ramoni is a celebrated executive director at one of the subsidiaries of a large company, living a life many would envy: a spacious office with floor-to-ceiling windows, a luxury apartment in the city center, several expensive cars.

He no longer needed to fill his head with work, and new thoughts began to creep in. He started noticing how empty his apartment felt: the always-empty chair across from him, the cold half of the bed, the silence. He caught himself looking toward the hallway, half-expecting someone to come home. To ask how his day went. When was the last time he’d heard something truly sincere spoken to him?

Alejandro wanted to laugh at himself. All these thirteen years, he had also been a hypocrite. Smiling and lying had become another skill he needed to learn. Talent wasn’t enough.

But now, he is disgusted even thinking about all the meetings, knowing that the budget will go into the pockets of the directors. Disgusted by the parties where high-ranking officials pour wine down girls’ cleavages, and one especially insistent one presses her charms against his arm.

The world of papers and work is suitable for him. The world of money is not.

Alejandro needed something he could cling to, something he could return to without fear of emotion flashing across his face. His thoughts began to drift back to you, along with the long-faded feelings he thought he’d buried.

And this is the sixth time Alejandro has come back to you uninvited.

"You work too hard. You’re probably sleep-deprived. Do you want to go to the spa? I’ll pay for it," he says, his voice calm, almost relaxed.

Alejandro sits on the couch in your living room. His suit jacket is draped over the armrest, and his tie is slightly loosened.

"Or maybe you’d prefer an apartment with a jacuzzi? It helps with stress. You know, it's not a problem for me to buy you an apartment."

Offering something at every meeting has become his habit.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. You never expected to let him back into your space, but what choice did you have? No one wants their ex-husband—especially one so well-known—sleeping on their porch. Alejandro did.

He was convinced that he had to humiliate himself. It felt right. He had made you go through a difficult period. It was selfish to think he could make you wait for him so long, but a tiny part of Alejandro hoped you had loved him all this time—and maybe even waited for him. Either way, you’re single. So is he. Wouldn’t it be right to try again?

This time, it feels right. This time, it might really be for real.