𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧, 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗟𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡

I sat in my penthouse, the dim light from the overhead lamp barely illuminating the room. The boxes Darius had dropped off earlier cluttered the living room, each one a small piece of a past I'd tried to bury. Jackson had pulled them out of storage, probably thinking I needed them for some reason or another. He meant well. Always did. But these weren't just random boxes filled with old junk. These were pieces of my life that I had carefully packed away-memories I hadn't wanted to revisit.

One box, in particular, caught my eye, sitting quietly in the corner as if it had been waiting for me all this time. April 12th was written in bold black marker across the top. My stomach twisted as I read the date. Our wedding day. Seven years ago.

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the lid. Did I really want to go through this? Did I really want to open up a chapter of my life that I had closed with such finality? I let out a slow breath and pulled the lid off. The first thing I saw was the photo album-the one Maluena had painstakingly put together after the wedding. I hadn't seen it in years.

I flipped the album open, the old, familiar smell of the pages filling the air, and there she was. Maluena. The first picture was of her getting ready that morning. She was smiling, surrounded by her bridesmaids, her face glowing with happiness and anticipation. Her dark hair was pinned up with small white flowers woven through it, and her eyes sparkled like the first time I saw her. God, she looked beautiful. My heart clenched painfully in my chest as I turned the page.

Another photo: her walking down the aisle. My heart ached at the sight. Her father beside her, holding her arm, both of them beaming. And there I was, standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for her. I remember the moment like it was yesterday-the excitement, the nerves, the rush of emotion as she got closer. But now, looking at it through this album, through the lens of time, I saw something different. My face... my smile wasn't as wide as hers. I looked distracted, even distant. I remembered thinking about the business deal I had been working on, the one that would finalize later that day.

I clenched my jaw, flipping through the pages faster now, watching her smile fade little by little in the photos. At the reception, she still smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes anymore. I hadn't noticed it back then. Or maybe I had, but I was too caught up in my own world to care. While she was mingling with guests, enjoying the night, I had stepped away. I remember it clearly now, stepping out onto the balcony, pulling my phone out, and making that call.

"Chris, where are you?" she had asked when she found me later, her hand resting gently on my arm.

"I'm wrapping up the deal," I had said casually, as if it was no big deal.

"The reception's still going, and everyone's asking for you," she had said, her voice soft, but I could tell she was hurt.

"I'll be there in a minute,"

I had promised, but even then, I hadn't gone right back. No, I stayed out there, closed that twenty-million-dollar deal, and when I finally went back inside, it felt like the damage had already been done. I hadn't realized it then, but looking back now, it was clear as day.

I turned another page in the album. Our first dance. Her head rested against my chest, but my gaze wasn't on her. I wasn't looking at the woman I had just promised to spend the rest of my life with. My mind had been elsewhere. On work. On money. On everything but her.

And when we left for our honeymoon, it hadn't gotten better. I was always on the phone, always working. She tried-God, she tried so hard in that first year. I remember coming home to her cooking dinner, trying to talk to me about her day, but all I could think about was the next deal, the next big contract, about how she wasn't Lauren. By the second year, she barely spoke unless spoken to. She had started pulling away, but still, she never complained. She only had good things to say, at least to everyone else.