𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧, 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

6 YEARS AGO

The sunlight streamed through the window as if determined to remind me of the beauty outside—beauty I could barely appreciate anymore. It was a Friday, but not just any Friday. It was April 12th, our second wedding anniversary. A day meant for celebration, love, and reflection.

I lay there for a moment, my head still on Chris's chest, his steady breathing a small comfort. I studied his face—his jawline sharp, his dark hair mussed from sleep. He looked peaceful, unaware of the heavy emotions swirling inside me. I carefully slid off his chest, making sure not to wake him, and walked to the bathroom.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, brushing my teeth in silence. My eyes looked tired, despite the smile I attempted to force. It had been months—maybe even longer—since I felt like we were truly connected. Today, I told myself, was a chance to change that.

After washing my face, I made my way to the kitchen. The mansion felt cavernous and cold, despite its opulence. The polished floors echoed faintly as I moved around, the silence almost deafening. I began making breakfast—crispy potatoes, scrambled eggs, pancakes and some more things Chris liked. The scent of butter and herbs filled the air, momentarily lifting my mood.

Halfway through, I heard Chris's footsteps on the stairs. Turning to see him, my heart fluttered. Even in shorts and a fitted white shirt, he looked effortlessly handsome.

"Good morning," I greeted him softly, my voice tinged with hope. "Do you want coffee?"

He shook his head, offering a tired smile. "No, thanks."

I walked over to him with the spatula still in my hand, wrapping my arms around his waist. He returned the embrace, his arms warm and strong around me. For a moment, it felt like the Chris I fell in love with was still there. He kissed my forehead, and my eyes closed instinctively, savoring the gesture.

"I have a surprise for you tonight," he said, his voice low and smooth.

My heart skipped. "You do?"

He nodded, his smile widening slightly. "Just be ready by 7:30. Dress formally."

I smiled back, excitement flickering to life. "I can't wait."

As I turned back to the stove, I asked, "Breakfast is almost ready. Do you want to eat here with me?"

Chris hesitated. "Actually, I'll take it in my office. I've got some work to finish up."

The light in me dimmed slightly, but I nodded, masking my disappointment. "Of course. I'll bring it up in a minute."

He left the kitchen, and I stared at the pan in front of me. A part of me wanted to cry, but I pushed the feeling away. He's working hard for us, I told myself. That's what he always says.

I plated his food carefully, adding a touch of garnish to make it look special, then carried it upstairs to his office. Knocking lightly, I waited until he called me in. He was already seated at his desk, papers scattered, his laptop open.

"Here you go," I said softly, placing the plate in front of him.

"Thanks," he replied, not even looking up from the screen.

"Chris..." I hesitated, trying to find the words. "Do you think we could have dinner together tonight before the surprise?"

He finally glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "We'll talk later, okay? I really need to focus right now."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Of course. I'll let you get back to it."

As I shut the door behind me, I felt the weight of loneliness pressing down. It wasn't just the mansion that felt empty—it was us.