𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧, 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗘𝗡

It was a quiet Friday evening, the kind where the sun set gently, casting a warm golden hue through the kitchen windows. Noah and Na'Jae were restless, running back and forth between the living room and the front door, waiting for their father to show up. They'd been talking about it all day. "Mommy, is Daddy coming soon?" Noah asked for the fourth time in ten minutes, his little voice filled with the excitement only toddlers could muster.

"Yes, baby. He'll be here any minute now," I replied, glancing at the clock. It was nearing 7, and I hoped Chris wouldn't be late.

The boys wanted to have dinner all together—something that hadn't happened in a while. And though it wasn't always comfortable, I made it happen for their sake. As much as Chris and I had been through, Noah and Na'Jae deserved moments like this.

At exactly 7:00, there was a knock on the door. The boys bolted toward it like a race had been announced, their little feet pattering across the hardwood floors. "Daddy's here!" they shouted in unison. I took a deep breath and followed them to the door.

When I opened it, there stood Chris, gift bags in hand. He looked like he'd just stepped out of a catalog—his usual crisp, tailored look that used to catch my eye years ago. "Hey," I said, keeping my tone neutral, though I couldn't deny the slight twist of unease in my chest.

"Hey," he replied, his gaze briefly meeting mine before falling back on the boys. Noah and Na'Jae squealed with delight, wrapping their tiny arms around his legs in excitement. "Daddy, what did you bring us?" Na'Jae asked, peering curiously at the bags in his hand.

Chris smiled, crouching down to their level. "These are for you, my angels," he said, handing them the bags. Their faces lit up as they ripped the tissue paper apart. Noah pulled out a sparkling tennis bracelet, and my eyebrows shot up.

"Tennis bracelets?" I muttered under my breath, barely believing my eyes.

Chris seemed to notice my reaction and gave me a smug smile as if daring me to say something. I did.

"Chris," I said, pulling him aside as the boys continued admiring their matching bracelets, "why the hell do three-year-olds need diamond tennis bracelets?"

He laughed softly, clearly not taking my question seriously. "They're stylish, Maluena. Besides, it's a little something from me to them," he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to give toddlers luxury jewelry.

I shook my head, trying to keep my frustration in check. "Stylish? They don't even know what that means," I muttered before turning away to head back into the kitchen to finish setting the table. I could feel Chris watching me as I walked, but I ignored him. I wasn't going to let this night turn into another argument, not in front of the boys.

Once the table was set, I called everyone in for dinner. Chris helped the boys wash their hands, and they all sat down. I said grace, and for a moment, everything felt... peaceful.

Chris began talking to the boys about plans he had for them this weekend. "So, guys, guess what we're doing tomorrow?" he asked, his tone playful.

Noah and Na'Jae's eyes lit up. "What, Daddy? What?" they asked eagerly.

"I'm taking you to pick apples, and after that, we're heading to the pumpkin patch. And guess what else? There's a farm with all kinds of animals you can pet!" he said, drawing out the suspense.

The boys were beyond excited, practically bouncing in their chairs. "Yay! We've never been to a farm!" Na'Jae shouted.

I smiled softly, watching them. As much as I hated some of the things Chris had done in the past, he was still their father and seeing him make them so happy was more than enough.

After dinner, Chris put on a movie for the boys in the living room, some animated film they loved, while I stayed back in the kitchen to clean up. I was wiping down the counters when I heard him come in behind me. His footsteps were quiet, but I could sense his presence, feel the air change. I didn't turn around, figuring he was just checking on things.

But then he spoke, his voice casual, but the question caught me off guard. "So, who's Daniel Scofield?"

I froze mid-wipe, furrowing my eyebrows at the name before slowly turning to face him. "What?"

Chris leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. "You heard me. Who's Daniel Scofield?"

I studied him for a moment, trying to gauge where this was coming from. "Why do you want to know?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

He shrugged, his face still annoyingly calm. "Just curious. I saw his name come up the other day."

I placed the cloth on the counter and crossed my arms. "It's not any of your business, Chris," I said firmly. His prying was unnecessary, and I wasn't about to entertain this conversation.

Chris pushed off the doorway and stepped closer. "Is he the one who sent all those flowers to your office?" he asked, his voice casual but laced with something else, something that sounded a lot like jealousy.

I blinked, taken aback by the question. "Yeah," I said after a pause, "Daniel sent the flowers."

He tilted his head slightly, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "So why is it okay for Daniel to send you flowers, but I can't?"

I scoffed, genuinely bewildered by his question. "Chris, we're divorced. You don't send me flowers. You never did, not when we were dating, not when we were engaged, not when we were married," I said, my voice growing sharper with each word. The memories of those small, unfulfilled desires resurfaced, stinging more than I liked to admit.

Chris opened his mouth as if to say something but then shut it, his jaw tightening. "I didn't know it mattered that much to you," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. Lies, he didn't care. 

I shook my head and turned away from him, running a hand through my hair. "It's not just about the flowers, Chris. I wanted to feel special, but I wasn't Lauren," I said, a bitter edge creeping into my voice. "I didn't get the luxuries that were waiting for her."

The mention of Lauren clearly hit a nerve. His expression darkened slightly, but he didn't deny it. He couldn't.

"Why do you even care?" I asked, turning back to him. "We're not together anymore. You shouldn't care what I do, who I see, or who sends me flowers. The only thing you should care about is our sons."

He stared at me, his gaze intense, as if he were searching for something in my face that wasn't there. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke. "Do you love him? Daniel?"

I chuckled, genuinely surprised by the question. "Love him? Chris, come on," I said, shaking my head. "I don't know where you're getting all of this from, but that's not what this is about."

"Then what is it about, Maluena? Because I'm confused. You've got flowers showing up at your office, and now you're acting like I don't have a right to ask you questions," he said, his voice rising just a notch.

"What do you want from me, Chris?" I asked, my frustration bubbling over. "What is it that you're really after here? Because from where I'm standing, it feels like you're still stuck in a moment from four years ago. Have you even moved on? Or are you still holding on to something that's long gone?"

His face tightened, and for the first time, I saw something flicker in his eyes—regret, maybe. Or maybe it was something else, something I couldn't quite place.

He went silent for a long moment, staring down at the floor before finally speaking again. "I think... it's time for me to go," he said quietly.

I shook my head, biting back the wave of emotions his words brought up. "Yeah, maybe it is," I muttered, turning back to the sink to finish cleaning up.

He lingered for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but the words never came. Instead, he left the kitchen, and moments later, I heard the front door open and close softly.

I stood there, gripping the edge of the counter, my mind racing. When did he get so bold? What had sparked this sudden wave of questions, this possessiveness that had no place in our lives anymore? I wasn't sure. But I knew that I didn't want to find out.