All That She Needs: The Betrayal of a Marriage

Part 34 Aiden

I caught a brief glimpse of Asha's face before she noticed me. For those few seconds, she looked truly happy; her smile wide and unguarded. She was almost bouncing as she walked; her steps light and carefree. But the moment she saw me, her expression fell, her happiness disappearing in an instant. Her reaction struck me. It was obvious that I was only causing her pain and anger. Knowing that filled me with regret.

I approached her carefully, bracing for any anger she might throw my way—I knew I deserved it. "I know I shouldn't be here," I said, keeping my voice steady. "But I really need to talk to you."

"Okay," she replied slowly, her eyes narrowing with suspicion as she took in the black and purple bruising on half my face from yesterday's incident. She didn't mention it, though, and instead turned to Sandy. "What time do you think dinner will be ready?"

Sandy checked her watch. "About twenty minutes. Should be ready around 7:15."

Asha looked back at me. "You have twenty minutes."

"Can we talk in my office?" I asked, catching myself as I added, "Not my office anymore. Just... the office."

She nodded. "Sure."

Asha turned and walked down the hall, and I felt a surge of longing as I watched her. There was something nostalgic about the way she moved—the way her shoulders squared, and her arms swayed. It hit me hard how much I had damaged between us and how many moments I had taken for granted. I followed her silently, unsure of how to begin—or even if I had the right to say anything at all.

We reached the office, and she stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter first. Her eyes barely met mine, distant and guarded. I hesitated before stepping in, searching for the right words, hoping I could somehow bridge the chasm I'd created. But the silence felt heavier than anything I could say. We both took a seat on the sofa by the wall, each settling at opposite ends. The distance between us felt final.

Finally, I cleared my throat. "I was told that I hurt your arms yesterday," I began, forcing myself to meet her gaze despite the guilt and shame twisting inside me. "I'm so sorry, Asha. I will not try to justify what I've done. I was drunk, out of control... and I'll live with the regret of that."

Asha gave me a slight nod, but she stayed silent, giving no indication if she accepted my apology or not.

I took a deep breath to steady myself. "I know I hurt you, Asha. I broke your heart. But yesterday, I finally understood the full extent of the damage I caused and how wrong I was. I was focused only on what I wanted and needed." I paused, feeling the weight of what I had to say next. "I kept convincing myself that I could make it right—that if I tried hard enough, you might forgive me. But I didn't realize that, in the process, I hurt you even more."

Her gaze hardened at my words, and I struggled to find the right way to continue. "You have every reason to hate me, Asha. My mistakes and wrongdoings are beyond redemption. I deserve whatever feelings you have toward me." The word comes out choked and filled with despair, a physical ache in my heart. "I know I am a weak man, a selfish man. I've realized that too late, and it has cost me my family. It has cost me you."

The silence felt suffocating. Asha was seemingly unwilling to respond, content to absorb my words. I expected she would yell at me, angry at me, but what I saw was only hurt and tiredness. She was tired of being hurt by me. "I know it's probably hard for you to believe me, but I love you, Asha. I never stopped loving you. But I betrayed you, and I understand I can never reverse that. I can never regain your trust."

"Aiden," Asha finally spoke, shaking her head, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "Enough. I will not change my mind. I'm divorcing you."

"I know," I whispered, the bluntness of her words pressing down on me and making it hard to breathe. My eyes burned with unshed tears, and it took all my willpower to keep them from falling. "I understand that there's nothing I can do to change it now."

Asha's gaze locked onto mine, and in that moment, I saw the truth reflected in her eyes—she knew I had finally accepted my defeat. "The divorce papers arrived at my desk this morning." I continued. My voice shook as my emotions overwhelmed me. "I can't bear to hurt you any more than you already are, Asha, so I'm going to sign them. I made a few changes—nothing major, but I agreed to most of your requests."

It took everything in me to say the words, to admit that I was letting go of her, of the life we'd built together as the consequences of my actions.

She gave me only a nod, though her expression made it clear she was worried about the changes I'd made. I knew she'd call her lawyer first thing in the morning. But she'd find there was nothing to worry about. I'd arranged for all our assets and joint savings to go to her, along with alimony that would secure her and our kids financially, so they'd never have to worry about a damn thing.

And even then, it wouldn't come close to making up for what I'd done. No amount of money could ever repay that.

"Find your happiness, Asha." I said, as I prayed silently for strength. The words felt like surrender, cementing the reality that this was truly the end. "I will not hold you back anymore."

Asha's gaze softened as she looked at me, a small, bittersweet smile forming. "I will," she said softly.

For a moment, we just looked at each other, and I was certain that memories of our life together flickered through both our minds—every beautiful moment we shared, every promise, and every mistake. This was it. This was goodbye.

"Can I get a hug?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," she replied, her eyes beginning to glisten with tears. We moved closer at the same time, reaching out until our arms wrapped around each other. For a moment, we held on tightly, the silence between us heavy with everything left unsaid. When she finally pulled away, her hand lingered on my arm just a second longer, as if trying to hold on to one last memory of me.

And then, with a deep breath, she moved back, and I knew it was time to let her go.

*** *** ***

I sat there, staring blankly at my screen, unable to absorb anything in front of me. I had probably been like this for hours, and I started contemplating the need to get away for a while to clear my head. It had been a week since my divorce was finalized, and I was still in the same hopeless state I had been in when I signed the papers.

"Aiden, someone is here to see you," Sean said cautiously, his tone careful, as if he were afraid of startling me. Given how I had been snapping at him lately, sometimes with no reason at all, his caution was understandable. "I just got a call from security in the lobby. He's on his way up."

I glanced at the clock on my desk. It was already 6 p.m. "Tell them to make an appointment during office hours," I grumbled.

"It's Mr. Blackthorne Senior, Aiden. Your father."

I sat up straight immediately, my heart racing. My relationship with my father had always been shaky, and the last time we spoke, which was over six months ago, it had ended poorly. I had no idea what he wanted now, but the anxiety twisting in my stomach suggested it wouldn't be good.

"Okay," I sighed. "Let him come in." As if anyone could stop my father from barging in. This was his company, and in his eyes, I was merely filling in—a generosity he bestowed upon me, but not because he couldn't manage it himself. That was the problem with family-owned businesses: no shareholders to keep him in check or board to challenge his authority. It was all too easy for him to take control whenever he wanted. But then, I held forty-nine percent of the share. I still had power over this company.

I braced myself, preparing for whatever confrontation awaited me.

After a few tense minutes, the door swung open, and Blackthorne Senior stepped in, radiating authority. He carried himself with the confidence of someone who still believed he was in charge—and in his mind, he certainly was. At seventy, my father remained an imposing figure; his presence could shift the room's energy. Years in the business world had shaped him into someone who commanded respect, and I often found myself at odds with that authority.

"Father," I mumbled, still seated and unwilling to rise to greet him. I had no energy to cater to his ego, and I certainly wasn't in the mood for pleasantries.

He walked—no, stalked—toward me, a frown wrinkling his forehead.

"Would you like to have a seat?" I said to him, gesturing to the two chairs across from the desk.

His frown got deeper, not saying anything, but he sat, then crossed his arms over his chest.

"Let's cut to the chase," my father said, his voice rumbling through the room. He was not one to waste time, and I was all too familiar with his direct, no-nonsense approach.

"Sure."

"Why did I just hear that you're separated from Asha?"

I sighed. "Divorced, Father. We're divorced," I corrected him.

"And you had the audacity to tell me through text messages. You should have discussed this with me first! How long has this been going on?"

Was he serious? Did he really think I should have asked his permission regarding my marriage? We never discussed anything beyond work, and now he suddenly wanted to delve into my personal life.

"I signed the papers a week ago," I replied casually, leaning back in my chair. "I moved out around three months before that."

"Why?" His voice rose, revealing his anger. "Asha is the perfect woman for a Blackthorne. She's beautiful, successful, and dedicated to you."

I nodded solemnly, acknowledging the truth in his words. "She is, without a doubt. But I fucked up."

His beady eyes narrowed at me, turning them into slits. "What did you do?"

"I cheated on her," I admitted, before I added with a tired exhale, "I guess the apple didn't fall far from the tree, did it?"

"You should be able to control your woman, Aiden," he seethed. "You should never have let her go. Blackthorn men don't get divorced. Our family image is crucial for the company. We set the standard for the community. Our values are based on family."

I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to retort, but the words slipped out anyway. "Maybe it's time we stop covering up our shits, Father, and let the world know we're not as perfect as we portrayed."

"That's nonsense!" He bellowed. "Get her back," my father ordered. I raised my brows at him, questioning whether his old age was making him delusional. "Beg her, offer her more wealth—do whatever it takes to win her back."

"I did beg her," I replied. "And you know Asha isn't easily swayed by money."

"You will not sit in that chair as a man who lost his wife because of his own idiocy."

I laughed bitterly. "Father, your own wife left you, too. Maybe not physically, but everyone knew her mind and heart didn't belong to you anymore. You've lost her a long time ago. She was just a shell of a woman, and yet, you've sat here for over thirty years."

"But your mother was present when it mattered," my father argued, sounding more ridiculous by the second. "I made sure of it. That's what you need to do."

Then it struck me, the horror of it. Staying with Asha could lead her down the same path as my mother—a woman forever heartbroken, confined in a life that dulled her spirit, reduced to a mere shadow of who she once was. I didn't want that for Asha. I loved her too much to let that happen.

In that moment, I also recognized the risk of my downfall. I could easily become like my father—a shallow, self-centered man, disrespectful of women and endlessly unfaithful, indifferent to the pain he inflicted. He never felt guilty, convinced that his money and power justified everything he did. It was painful to admit that, in many ways, I already followed that path. My betrayal of Asha marked the first step toward that cycle, a pattern I couldn't afford to repeat. I wasn't him, and I wouldn't let my life reflect his. I had forgotten that. I had lost sight of my determination to never follow his way of life.

Even worse, I could pass this cycle on to Kayden and Chloe. They would grow up resenting me, just as I'd resented my father for putting appearances above all else and living comfortably with lies and betrayal. I couldn't let that happen. Asha and the kids deserved better, and so did I.

A sudden wave of relief washed over me, grounding me in the certainty that I was doing the right thing.

"You'll have to step down as CEO, Aiden, if you refuse to reconcile with her. We can't have a divorced man as the face of the company," he snapped, irritation lacing his voice. "We're selling a family image. That's what has made us successful all these years. People trust us. So, you need to get your wife back!" He was losing his composure, but I found I couldn't care less. "I thought you loved her!"

I looked at my father, feeling a sense of disdain creeping beneath my skin, and I cringed when I remembered Kayden had looked at me the same way.

"Father, I don't know if you can understand this, as feelings never fucking mattered to you, but I agreed to the divorce because I love her," I replied, holding back my frustration. "I was hurting her, and I couldn't keep doing that. My mistakes were irreversible. I lost her trust, and I know I can't get it back. I won't force her to live a life filled with worry, suspicion, and heartbreak, or turn her into Mother. I'm not you, and I don't want to become you."

I stood up, leaning forward over the desk with my hands resting on the table, looking down at him. "The only way you can kick me out, Father, is by buying my share, and given your finances, I doubt you can afford it." I silently thanked my late grandad for being so thorough in his will, securing my rights to my share in a way my father couldn't contest. "Even if you had the funds, I wouldn't make it easy for you. I will fight you for this, and I'll do whatever it takes to win. This company is a legacy passed down from Grandad to you and then to me, and I'll ensure it goes to Kayden and Chloe— if they want it. My responsibility is to prepare the company for their future."

I rounded the table and walked toward the door, opening it with determination. My father wouldn't get the upper hand this time. "If there's nothing else to discuss, I have work to finish." I paused at the threshold and glanced back at him. "Goodbye, Father. Send my regards to Mother. It's been so long since I've seen her that she might have forgotten she has a son."