Chapter 30
I wiped my hands over my face and laughed, bitter and unbelieving. I slapped the steering wheel and pushed the accelerator a little harder. Everything felt unbearably heavy—the revelation, the years I'd buried whole, crashing into me at once.
What had I done? Tears blurred my vision as I stared at the familiar driveway. I had no idea she'd been pregnant. I didn't know. Why had I left her? I buried my forehead against the wheel.
Rain started as a soft patter, then sharpened into a steady hammer on the windshield.
I sat up, shut the engine off, and stepped into the downpour.
Cold rain soaked me through in seconds, but I walked to the patio anyway and stood at the front door, pressing the doorbell.
No answer. I rang again.
Clicking my tongue, I knocked, rang, knocked.
"Who's in there—Rory?" Thalia's voice came from somewhere above the porch camera, and I glanced up.
"Hey." I raised a hand in a weak wave and forced a smile I didn't feel. "Sorry for coming unannounced."
"Wait up." She sounded surprised.
I stood there, drenched, until the door clicked and opened. Thalia poked her head out. "What the hell are you doing, looking like a drowned rat?!" she hissed, then yanked me inside before I could answer.
I bit the inside of my cheek. "Thalia," I said.
She shut the door and locked it, then turned to face me. "What's wrong?"
My lips trembled. I took a breath and let my body fold into her shoulder as if it were the only place I could stand. "I messed up," I mumbled, the words small and hollow.
Right now, I don't know what to do. I don't know how to face my wife. She doesn't know the real reason I left her. And now—knowing she was the reason I went bankrupt, and that she faced a miscarriage without me even knowing... I don't know how to handle any of it.
"Hold on, hold on," Thalia said quickly, pushing me back just enough to steady me. Her hands gripped my arms firmly. "Rory, I don't understand. Where did you mess up? And why are you crying?" Her eyes searched mine, wide with worry.
"Sloey," I sniffled, dragging my sleeve across my face, though it was already soaked. "Thalia... I messed up. Sloey..."
Her brow furrowed.
"Sloey... you mean Sloane? What's with your wife?
What happened?" She exhaled sharply, steadying herself as if she needed the grounding more than I did.
Then she patted my arm. "Okay, wait. Hold on.
Why don't you get yourself a bath, huh? Come.
" She caught my wrist and tugged me toward the stairs.
I let her. I didn't have the energy to resist, and even if I did, what would be the point? I needed someone. I needed her to listen, because I didn't know if I could carry all of this on my own.
She opened the door to her bedroom and ushered me inside.
"Go. Take a shower. The robe's in the upper cabinet.
I'll find you some clothes since—" she gave me a once-over and groaned "—you're obviously taller than me.
" With a gentle push, she steered me toward the bathroom.
Letting out a sigh, I dragged myself in, letting the warm water run over me until my skin stung. When I finally stepped out, I dressed in clothes she'd lent me while her housekeeper took my wet ones to the laundry.
I curled myself into a ball on the couch in her living area, knees drawn up, chin resting against them. The television across from me played some streaming movie, but the sound was low, barely above a whisper.
"So," Thalia started, breaking the silence. She sat on the other side of the couch, legs folded up, elbow on the armrest, cheek resting against her palm. "What's going on?"
"I messed up," I whispered, fidgeting with my fingers, eyes fixed on the glowing screen I couldn't follow.
Thalia sighed. "How did you mess up this time? And what's happening between you and your wife?"
"She..." My throat tightened. "She's pregnant."
Thalia shifted upright, her brows shooting up. "Wait—you guys are expecting? Well, that needs a celebr—"
"No. No." I shook my head, looking at her, still hugging my knees tight. "I meant... she was pregnant. Back then. When I left her."
Her voice faltered into disbelief. "What...? Are you serious? You two had a child?" She blinked rapidly. "That kid would be... what? Eleven now?"
My chest pounded, every beat echoing like thunder. "I mean... that's if she'd been able to deliver them successfully."
"Them?" Thalia's voice rose, sharp. "Children?"
I winced, looking away, rolling my eyes as though the motion could hold back the sting of tears. "Yeah. She said they were twins. But..." My throat closed, words breaking apart. "She had a miscarriage, Thalia. They're gone. The twins are dead."
Thalia froze, staring at me. Then her hand flew to her mouth, muffling her voice. "Oh my God..."
My hands dragged down my face, fingers tugging at my hair in raw frustration. "I didn't know. I left her right after finding out I had the same illness as Mom. If I'd known... I wouldn't have let her go through that alone. I should've stayed."
"Oh, Rory," Thalia whispered, shifting closer. "It's not your fault, okay? You thought it would be better for her if you disappeared completely—better than forcing her to watch you weaken."
I shook my head hard, tears stinging. "I didn't want to leave her, Thalia," I muttered, voice breaking. "It was Mom's idea." The words tasted like cowardice, like I'd just confessed to something unforgivable.
Her brows knitted. "What do you mean? Didn't you tell me to help you pretend you wanted her out of your life?"
"I did," I admitted, hollow laughter escaping me.
"But it wasn't because I truly wanted to.
Mom said I should let Sloane be with someone who could stay with her for the long run.
She told me love shouldn't be selfish—that it would be better for Sloane to find someone strong and lasting, not someone like me who was already decaying.
That I should leave her before she left me. .. the same way Papa left her."
The memory clung sharp as glass, every phrase still etched in my mind a decade later. "In exchange for breaking up with Sloane, I asked Mom for money to help cover her expenses. I stayed in the shadows, but I tried to help her however I could."
Thalia's eyes widened. "You're telling me... everything you decided back then was because Auntie told you to?"
I nodded slowly, shame burning through me.
"I'm pathetic, right? She insisted she knew what was best for both of us.
That I should focus on treatment and keep away from Sloane.
She didn't want me hurt, and she didn't want Sloane crushed under the weight of taking care of me. "
"Rory..." Thalia sighed, locking eyes with me. "You have to tell Sloane the truth. She deserves to know why you really left."
A knot tightened in my chest and I laughed, bitter.
"What good would it do for her to know? Nothing would change, Thalia.
Besides... she didn't marry me for love.
She married me for revenge." I smiled even as tears ran down my face.
"Can you imagine? My wife is the reason my company nearly went bankrupt.
From the start—everything was manipulated by her. "
Thalia's eyes widened.
She let out a long sigh and slumped back on the couch.
"I'm your cousin, Rory," she said, giving me a faint, sideways smile.
"But right now? I think I understand Sloane.
She didn't know the real reason you left.
And you told her you only used her for bed.
Of course she was hurt—those words cut, even after a decade. "
"I know.
" I clicked my tongue and swallowed. "I just..
. I can't accept that she walked back into my life pretending she wanted to save my company when she was the one pulling the strings all along.
" I stared at the ceiling. "I don't know what to feel—everything's crashing in at once, from her pregnancy to the embezzlement.
I can't process it. Still, I'm hoping we can get through it. "
Thalia cleared her throat. "If you want a chance at fixing this, tell her the truth, Rory. You've been hiding so much for so long. You're not getting better by hiding. And—honestly—even your father didn't know the full story."
"They'll find out eventually—when I'm dead." The laugh came out hollow. Thalia smacked my shoulder.
I groaned at the impact of her words.
"You're making me an accomplice to your own illness, you know that?
What's the point of hiding it from them, Aurora?
People need to know so they can take care of you—and instead I'm hiding everything.
" She jabbed a finger at me. "You can't run from this forever.
If I were you, I'd face it and tell Sloane what happened. "
"Thalia." I gave a weak smile. "The last thing I want is for Sloane to stay with me out of pity. Even if she married me for revenge, I want her to stay because she wants to—not because I'm sick."
Her expression hardened.
"Well, what you're doing right now isn't helping, Rory," Thalia snapped.
"Look at you—running away from her the same way you did years ago.
Hiding from her, not even returning her calls.
" She jabbed at my pocket; my phone buzzed against my thigh.
"You keep saying you regret what you did, but you keep making the same excuses. How am I supposed to believe you?"
I flinched at the bluntness of it. "I'm trying—"
"No." Thalia's voice cut me off.
She stood and crossed her arms, looking down at me.
"I may be your cousin, and I understand you're seriously sick, but that doesn't give you the right to treat your wife this way.
You've hurt her for so long, and you're hurting yourself.
Aurora—it's time to stop running and face the truth. "
?·???°???°???·?
Seeing an open spot in the lot, I angled the car toward it—only for another vehicle to swerve in, nearly clipping my bumper. Both of us slammed the brakes just in time. Even through the tinted glass, I knew exactly who it was.
Exhaling sharply, I shifted into reverse and steered into a nearby space instead. Once parked, I killed the ignition, unbuckled my seatbelt, and stepped out, locking the door behind me.
I froze mid-step when I saw her—Sloane—walking toward me.
My throat tightened, a lump forming as our eyes met.
It had only been a day since I last saw her, yet it felt like forever.
Jaw clenched, I tore my gaze away and turned my back, striding toward the facility entrance.
"Ms. Aurora." Celeste appeared before me, bowing slightly. "Everything is prepared, just as you requested."
I hummed in acknowledgment, nodding.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Sloane approaching with her secretary in tow.
She came to stand beside me but said nothing.
Of course. Today was our wedding anniversary, and with others around, we had to act like everything was fine.
Celeste smiled warmly, giving Sloane the same bow. "Ms. Sloane." Straightening, she gestured ahead. "This way, please."
Millie fell into step beside Celeste, the two of them chatting quietly as they led the way.
Sloane and I trailed behind, the silence between us thick and awkward.
I shoved my hands deep into my pockets, eyes fixed straight ahead.
I didn't know how to break it—didn't even know what words would come out if I tried.
"Where have you been staying?" Sloane asked at last, her voice low, almost cautious.
I flicked a glance at her, then back forward. She wasn't looking at me, only straight ahead. "Somewhere," I said flatly.
"And where's 'somewhere'?" she pressed. "Because I went to your house—the one you lived in before we got married—and you weren't there. So where?"
A dry chuckle escaped me. I sighed, shaking my head as I stole a look at her. "For someone who married me out of revenge, you sure care too much." My laugh came out low, bitter, and I kept walking.
"Ro," she called softly. "If you'd just listen to me, you'd understand. But you keep running away from everything as if that's the only solution you have."
I narrowed my eyes at her as we stopped in front of the glass doors. Celeste and Millie swung them open. "Sol, if you could've just admit—"
A sudden pop cut me off. I flinched, my body jerking at the sound. Both Sloane and I looked ahead as a chorus of voices erupted.
"Happy first wedding anniversary!" everyone cheered.
I blinked, stunned.
The room was full—the facility officers, even the kids—all smiling, clapping, celebrating.
My throat tightened when I felt something warm slip around my arm.
I turned, swallowing hard, only to see Sloane clinging to me, her grip firm, pulling me closer.
"Let's talk after this, okay?" she murmured, her gaze steady on mine.
Before I could protest, she tugged me forward. Her smile lit up the room, flawless as always, effortless. "Gosh, thank you, everyone, for the surprise," she said, her laughter bright as she led me inside.
The kids swarmed us first, their little arms wrapping around our waists, their giggles filling the air. I exhaled slowly, pulling my hands out of my pockets to give them high-fives, letting their joy soften the heaviness pressing against my chest.
Sloane released my arm when a cluster of them pulled her aside, circling her, tugging, hugging. She bent down, all smiles, her hair brushing against their little faces as they laughed.
My gaze lingered on her. A faint smile tugged at my lips, though it quickly faded with my sigh. My chest ached with the weight of what-ifs.
If I had stayed... would the twins have lived? Who would they look like? They'd be tweens by now.
The thought squeezed my heart until it hurt.
I sank into a chair as the kids hovered around me, tugging at my sleeves, climbing into my lap. I laughed with them, teasing, ruffling hair, letting myself get pulled into their joy. But even as I played along, my eyes kept drifting back to her—always back to her.
She's smiling as she playfully dances with the kids, ushering them along as they sway. My lips curl into a smile, but it fades when she catches me looking. Clearing my throat, I shifted my gaze back to the children in front of me.
"It's my fault for not staying beside her," I whispered under my breath.
"Ms. Aurora," Celeste called, pulling me from my thoughts.
"Yes?"
She beamed at me. "The director is requesting a group photo with you and Ms. Sloane." She points toward the center stage.
I'm about to protest, but the children squealed and tugged at my hands, dragging me forward. I laughed, shaking my head. "Easy, easy," I chuckled, standing and walking with them.
On the other side, kids are pulling Sloane forward as well. We're forced to sit next to each other. With no other choice, I lowered myself onto the spot they've made, and she sat close—so close I caught the familiar trace of her perfume.
My breath hitched, and I straightened my posture.
"Alright, kids, gather around," the photographer called out. "Ms. Aurora, Ms. Sloane—closer, please." She gestured, and Sloane inched nearer. I did the same.
"That's it! Now, let's do a heart pose," she demonstrated with her arms.
I chuckled softly at the idea, exhaling through my nose. Lifting my right arm, I pressed my fingertips against my head. Sloane mirrored the pose with her left arm, completing the heart.
"Perfect! Steady... one, two, three—say cheese!"
"Cheese!" Sloane and I echoed along with the children, the camera flashing bright.
The kids clapped and squealed, their joy filling the room despite their fragile health. I can't take my eyes off them.
This anniversary celebration feels more like a children's party, yet I find myself grateful—grateful to witness their laughter, grateful for this fleeting warmth.
And beneath it all, the haunting thought lingers: how long will I last with this illness?
Will the next therapy still hold me together, or will my body finally surrender?
As the celebration winds down, I knelt to bid each child goodbye, kissing their foreheads and trading high fives.
Their tiny hands slap mine with innocent excitement.
I smiled at them one last time, then turned away, my steps carried me out of the room and straight toward the parking lot.
Standing in front of my car, I lifted my eyes to the sky.
Mom, did I really do the right thing by leaving her?
Because all I feel now is regret... regret for not fighting for the love I had, for not choosing to stay by her side.
I let out a broken laugh, breath hitching.
"I should've stayed and died early with her by my side, instead of suffering for a decade without the sun I've loved for so long. "
"Ro."
The sound of her voice snapped me straight. I whipped around and saw Sloane standing a few steps away. My throat tightened. She didn't... hear that, did she?
She took a slow step forward, the faintest smile tugging her lips as she stopped in front of me.
"Happy anniversary..." Her scoff cuts the word in half, and she rubs the corner of her brow.
"Okay, it's lame. I know this isn't exactly a happy anniversary, but. .. can we talk?"
Her eyes are swollen, with faint traces of tears she tried to hide. Guilt twisted in my gut. I swallowed hard, digging into the pocket of my suit. My fingers closed around a small velvet box, and I pulled it out.
"Here," I said, holding it out to her. "My gift. Happy anniversary."
She blinked between me and the box, but she didn't take it. My hand trembled, so I reached out, caught her wrist gently, and pressed it against her palm until she's holding it.
"Ro, please," she whispered, stepping closer. "Can we just talk this over? I have my reasons for what I did. Just... let me explain first."
I inhaled, ready to answer, but before I could, Millie rushed up, slightly breathless. "Ms. Sloane." She bowed, interrupting the fragile air between us.
Sloane's gaze lingered on me for one more heartbeat before she turned toward her. "What is it, Millie?"
Millie pressed her lips thin, then exhaled. "Ms. Verne called. She said you're needed at the investor meeting for their company."
"Tell her I couldn't. It's my wedding anniver—"
"You should go," I cut in, already reaching for my car door.
She blinked at me, disbelief flickering across her face. "That's your work to do, Sol. You should go."
"Ro." Her sigh carried everything—hurt, frustration, pleading. "Aren't we going to celebrate our anniversary together? Didn't we plan a dinner?"
I shrugged, pulling the handle. "Cancel it. Go to your business partner."
"She's just my business partner. You're my wife." Sloane's words struck like a plea, but I only clicked my tongue, exhaling sharply before meeting her gaze.
"And I'm telling you to go to your business partner.
" I forced a smile that felt like a knife between my teeth.
"After all, your schedule has never been clear enough for us.
Besides,"—I slid into the driver's seat—"we can celebrate it next year, since there's no divorce in this marriage, right? "
"Ro!" she called after me. I didn't respond. I shut the door, clicked the seatbelt, started the engine, and pulled away from the foundation.
In the rearview, Sloane stood on the path, her figure looked small, and unmoving, staring after me.
I told myself I was protecting her. I told myself other things, too.
"I should step back," I whispered to myself, bitter as the engine's hum.
"At the end of the day, I'm dying anyway. "