Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Timothy asked Secretary Allen to take Henry back to the hospital.noveldrama

He stayed behind, still sitting alone in the private dining room.

Outside, the fireworks show continued, bursting in brilliant colors against the night

sky.

But the person he hoped would watch with him never arrived.

Before he knew it, it was nine o'clock.

Timothy had never felt time drag so painfully.

So this is what waiting feels like.

She had waited for him to come home-for seven years.

Days upon days, all blending into this same ache.

His heart tightened with guilt.

No wonder she wanted a divorce.

She simply couldn't bear the endless waiting anymore.

Timothy closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his brow.

Ten o'clock.

Eleven o'clock.

Midnight was approaching.

Knock, knock, knock.

A rapping at the door.

Was it her?

Timothy jumped to his feet, hope flaring in his chest.

But it was only a server, pushing the door open. "Sir, we're closing now."

Timothy glanced out the floor-to-ceiling windows-the fireworks had ended.

The one he waited for never came.

"I understand," he said quietly.

As the server left, Vince stepped in.

Timothy lifted his weary eyes, unable to stop himself from glancing behind Vince, listening for any sign of footsteps.

But Vince was alone.

"She wouldn't come?"

"Let's go," Vince said softly.

He looked around at the room, decorated with such care for an evening she would never see, his lips pressed into a thin line.

All of this too late.

She didn't want it anymore.

Timothy was shrewd enough to understand, even if he didn't want to admit it.

He didn't know what he was still holding onto.

He picked up the bouquet he'd left on the empty chair and handed it to Vince. Give this to her for me. Tell her tomorrow at nine, I'll meet her outside the courthouse."

"You've finally made up your mind?" Vince asked.

"No," Timothy said, voice low.

He hadn't, not really.

He still didn't want a divorce.

But to give her what she wanted, he'd go through with it.

"All right, I'll pass it on. Come on, let's head out together."

They walked side by side, got into the

parking to

ou and made their

garage. ContentVenet

Secretary Allen was already waiting in the car for Timothy.

Vince said, "Go on, get in. Try to get some rest at the hospital."

"Thanks, Vince," Timothy said quietly.

He turned and walked to his car, his shoulders heavy.

Vince watched him leave, unable to shake the strange tightness in his chest.

When he got home, Jessica was already asleep.

Vince set the bouquet on her bedside table and left a note.

The next morning, Jessica woke the Cent of flowers, thick and

in the air. et

surovent

She saw the bouquet-and a small bag set beside it.

It was the same little bag from the Christmas tree.

She'd never opened it.

A note lay on top, Vince's handwriting:

Jessy, Timothy says he'll meet you at the courthouse at nine this morning. Jessica picked up the bag, turning it over in her hands, but she didn't open it. Suddenly, pain stabbed through her abdomen, sharp and overwhelming.

Sweat broke out on her forehead in beads.

Within moments, her vision swam, and she collapsed beside the bed.

Her hand slipped limply to the floor, the little bag tumbling down with it.

At eight o'clock, Vince came to her door, knocking to wake her for breakfast.

He knocked for a while, but there was no answer.

Remembering her illness, Vince pushed the door open without hesitation.

What he saw was not someone peacefully asleep.

He rushed to her side, accidentally kicking the small bag farther under the bed.

He didn't notice-every ounce of his attention was on Jessica.

"Jessy. Jessy. Jessy!"

No matter how he called, she didn't wake.