Chapter 35
Hope
Kaden: I know it might not mean anything to you now, but I need you to know how deeply, and utterly sorry I am for hurting you the way I did.
Kaden: I had planned to tell you everything that day, and even though Adrian beat me to it, I knew from the look on your face, that I was already too late.
Kaden: There’s still so much I need to say, so much you deserve to know. But I understand if you never want to see or hear from me again.
Kaden: Please don’t let this be the end, Hope. You have come to mean more to me than I ever expected. You and Zac. The thought of losing you both… it’s unbearable.
Kaden: I’m not going to give up. I don’t want to lose you as a friend. I will earn your forgiveness, your trust. Whatever it takes. Even if it takes me years to rebuild.
Kaden: My heart aches, but I know it’s nothing compared to the pain I’ve caused you. And for that, I am so, incredibly sorry.
The words still land with the same sharp pang as they did the first time he sent them to me. Five days have passed since I discovered his secret, and I still can’t bring myself to respond, to type a single word back or answer any one of his calls.
I know it’s probably cruel at this point to keep him waiting, to offer nothing but silence and far too much time for him to imagine the worst. I should at least give him the chance to explain, to tell his side before I decide how, or if, we can move forward.
But the thought of knowing more terrifies me. Of seeing him not as the man I believed him to be, but as someone capable of lies and deception, the same kind that shattered my marriage and unravelled my life. I’m not ready to face that, at least not right now.
The Kaden I had built in my mind would never have done something as unforgivable as what my ex-husband did.
I truly believed we were bound by the same heartbreak, who had both been betrayed by the same selfish people.
It never once crossed my mind that he might be no different from the man I married.
That he, too, could lie to and betray his own wife.
And the fact that he continued seeing his affair partner not long after his wife left him feels just as bad—if not worse—than Adrian falling into bed with woman after woman so soon after our separation.
It’s these thoughts that keep my hand from reaching for my phone, what’s stopped me from calling him or replying to any of his texts. I’m still hurt. Still angry. Still devastated.
But beneath all of that, something else is beginning to take place, a quiet, aching sense of loss. A yearning I didn’t expect to feel so soon.
I miss my friend.
I miss his voice.
I miss his presence.
I miss him.
As I read his texts over and over, the feeling only deepens. His words have always had a way of melting something inside me, like they were pulled straight from somewhere honest, sincere.
Even now, knowing what I know, they don’t feel false. They don’t read like manipulation or empty apologies, the way Adrian so bluntly warned me they would. They still feel like him. Sound like him. The man I’ve come to know over the past month.
And that’s the hardest part of all. Do I believe he’s still the same man who shattered his wife’s heart, or has he truly changed? Is this new version of him just temporary, or has he genuinely learned from the past, making every possible effort to be a better person now… and in the future?
Honestly, I just don’t know. Only time will tell.
“Do you have any plans for the weekend?” Bernadette, the head nurse of the Post-Anaesthesia Recovery Unit at the private hospital where I work, asks.
We’ve just finished our last shift of the week and are getting ready to head home, back, for me, to my now uneventful life.
“Nothing exciting,” I reply honestly. “Zac’s staying at his grandparents tonight and won’t be back until tomorrow evening, so I was thinking of finishing up some of the renovations and maybe just lazing in front of the TV with a bottle of Shiraz, watching reruns of The Resident. What about you?”
“Yeah, that doesn’t sound very exciting at all,” she chuckles. “I’ve got a hot date lined up tomorrow night. We’re going to Olivio’s for dinner, and if all goes well… hopefully back to mine afterwards,” she says, flashing me a wink.
Bernadette may only be thirty-seven, but she’s been married and divorced three times—one of those marriages lasting just a year. She doesn’t have any children, focusing mostly on her career and travelling overseas. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already on the lookout for husband number four.
She’s the closest thing I have to a real friend, well, at least before Kaden came into the picture.
But her whole living life on the edge, you only live once outlook doesn’t exactly mesh with my more responsible, single-parent lifestyle.
So, it’s rare for us to hang out outside of work, and, honestly, I think she’s more interested in collecting men than she is in making friends.
“What’s this one like?” I indulge her, knowing full well how much she loves to gush about her dates.
“He’s thirty-two, so younger than me, works in finance, has never been married or have kids, and looks like a jacked-up version of Adam Brody.”
A loud snort leaves me, and I quickly slap a hand over my mouth to stifle it. One thing Bernadette is known for, it’s that, she always had a thing for big, bulky men, or ‘beefcakes,’ as she likes to call them.
“He sounds like a catch already,” I tease, and the wide grin tugging at her lips looks almost mischievous. She’ll eat this poor guy alive.
“Wanna see him?” she asks, already pulling her phone from her pocket. I don’t get a chance to respond—she already has the screen shoved in my face. When my eyes flick to it, they immediately go wide.
“Oh my God!”
“I know, right! He’s so fucking hot!”
“Um....Bernie...am I supposed to be staring at his dick?”
“What?” she gasps, realising she’s just shown me the wrong photo. “Oh, fuck.” She quickly shuffles to fix it, pulling up another picture, this time of a dark, curly-haired man in a business suit sitting on the hood of a black Ferrari.
“Sorry about that, love,” she apologises, a flush of embarrassment crossing her face. “He’s sent me so many dick pics, it’s hard to keep track of them all.”
“No apology needed. With a dick that size, I’d be proud to show it off too.”
She bursts out laughing. “You know, I’d be happy to hook you up with one of his friends. They’re just as hot as Mark.”
“Oh, no. It’s fine. Between work, the renovations, and taking care of a kid on my own, I just don’t have the time to date.”
And if any of Mark’s friends happen to have a dick even half as monstrous as his, I’m not sure my poor vagina could handle it.
It’s been over a year and a half since I last had sex, and that was with Adrian, who was just a little above average.
I’m tight as a seal, it’s almost as if I’ve transformed into a born-again virgin.
“Well, if you ever change your mind, just let me know. We can even do that whole double date thing that people do these days.”
I nod, even though I know I’d never take her up on the offer. “Of course,” is all I say to that.
“Well, I better go. I’ve gotta rummage through my wardrobe tonight, and find the sluttiest outfit I own.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Goodluck with that,” I humour her.
We exit through the automatic sliding doors, heading towards our cars, pausing only to wish each other a great weekend.
The moment I slide into the driver’s seat, I reach for my phone and see there are no missed calls or texts—not even from Kaden. A flutter of disappointment twists in my stomach. He’s tried to contact me every single day, even if only to offer a simple apology. But today… there’s been nothing.
The drive home is long and exhausting, thanks to Sydney’s peak-hour traffic and everyone racing to start their weekend. I’d usually be thrilled to be heading home at this hour, but now… I’d give anything to avoid returning to a quiet, empty house, with no one to talk to or keep me company.
It’s sad to think it was almost a week ago that I was at Chris and Gemma’s housewarming, having such a great time—the first in a while, and feeling like things were finally starting to look up. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
And now, it seems, Kaden has finally given up the fight. He probably figured it wasn’t worth the effort, especially since I’ve been ignoring him all week. The knots in my stomach tighten as I get closer to home, and when I pull into the driveway, something on the porch catches my eye.
I’m out of the car within seconds, curiosity propelling me towards the strange box sitting just outside my front door. As I crouch to inspect it, I notice there’s only a label with my name and address, no indication of where it came from.
I unlock the door and carry the box inside, caught off guard by its weight, and even more intrigued by what it could possibly hold. Setting it down on the floor, I use my key to slice through the tape.
When the flaps fall open, I’m surprised to find a plant inside. Not just any plant—an orchid, blooming in the most stunning shade of red. I carefully lift it out of the box, and the instant I do, a small white envelope flutters to the floor.
Placing the orchid on the hallway table, I bend down and snatch up the envelope, tearing it open like it holds a winning lottery ticket.
Hope,
I found this orchid while wandering through the Botanic Gardens. The woman working there told me orchids symbolise beauty, courage, and strength—things that immediately reminded me of you.
You are stronger and braver than you realise. Beautiful both inside and out. You’ve endured the harshest conditions, and still, you bloom—gracefully, fiercely—just like this orchid.
I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I only hope you’ll give me the chance to earn it.
I’ll wait as long as it takes.
— Kaden.
A tear I hadn’t realised was building slips down my cheek, falling onto the small card in my hand.
Just when I thought he’d given up, he surprises me—speaking in a language he knows I understand all too well.
Plant talk. He bought me this orchid knowing I’d never have the heart to throw it away.
But what’s even more beautiful than the flower itself is the thought behind it.
It’s intentional. It’s meaningful. It’s layered. It’s heart-warming.
I’m even more conflicted.
One part of me wants to call him, to talk, to hear his voice again. The other part, the more guarded side, wants to keep him at arm’s length, to protect myself from being hurt all over again.
And right now, that voice is ringing just a little louder.
As much as I want to be moved by this gift, I’m just not ready yet. I need more time. But he’s willing to wait… and for now, that’s more than enough.