Her Regret Brought Him Back

"I'm going to marry Vivienne."

Elise froze in her chair.

The pencil that had been dancing at her fingertips stopped.

She looked up. Staring at Callum Voss—her husband—who stood flatly in the doorway of her workroom.

Callum's white shirt was already loosened two buttons from the top, his hair, so neat that morning, now slightly disheveled.

"I won't say it again," Callum added. "And I don't need your permission."

Callum's face was flat. It showed no remorse or hesitation. He hadn't come to argue, only to inform.

Elise turned her chair fully to face him.

Three seconds.

Long enough for anyone untrained to start crying and fill the silence with unnecessary words. But two years of living under the same roof as Callum Voss had taught Elise one thing. This man never misread silence. He knew when someone was quiet because they were shattered, and when someone was quiet because they were choosing to be.

Elise chose.

"Fine," Elise said, calm and controlled.

There was a small movement in Callum's jaw. Brief, but enough for Elise to know he'd been expecting a reaction—tears, protest, anger—something that would make him feel like he'd won. But Elise gave him nothing. She had nothing left to give to someone who had never wanted to receive it.

"I have one request before everything's finished," Elise continued. She lowered her head slightly, arranging her words.

Callum's CEO instincts flared instantly. His eyes narrowed slightly, and the fingers that had been relaxed in his pockets tensed.

"Mr. Harlan wants to sign the first contract with the studio I'm building. You know him—a senior property partner, conservative about choosing business associates. He cares deeply about family image."

Elise crossed her arms on the desk. Her demeanor was completely calm.

"Over the next four weeks, he's holding four gala events that require his partners to attend with their spouses. I need you to accompany me to those four events. To make him believe our marriage is fine."

Callum said nothing.

Elise continued. "Once the contract is signed, I'll sign all the divorce papers you've prepared. No additional conditions. No demands of any kind."

Elise gave a small shrug—a gesture too light for a conversation this important, and precisely because of that, it felt painful to anyone watching.

"I just need four weeks, Callum. After that, you're free."

Silence.

Callum looked at Elise differently than he had two minutes ago. No longer the look of someone who'd come to deliver news, but the look of someone recalculating a situation he thought he already understood.

"Are you serious?" Callum asked shortly.

"I've never had time to not be serious."

Callum fell silent again. His eyes scanned the room: a board full of sketches, scattered portfolios, a desk that felt like it belonged to someone who actually lived there. This small room at the end of the hallway was the one corner of the house Elise claimed as her own. In two years, Callum had rarely entered this room. And tonight, for the first time, he'd stepped in—not to look at Elise's work, but only to announce a divorce.

"Fine." Callum nodded once. "Four weeks. No more. After four weeks, you won't exist in my life anymore."

Elise smiled thinly. It didn't reach her eyes. "Agreed. That was my plan from the start, anyway."

Callum lingered a moment longer than expected, then nodded once more. "I'll have the divorce papers ready after that. And you'll sign them without making a scene."

"Yes," Elise replied quickly.

Callum's jaw tightened briefly. Barely visible, even to Elise.

"Don't complicate this, Elise. I want everything to end peacefully."

"Of course."

Callum turned and left. The sound of his footsteps faded down the long hallway, followed by the sound of his bedroom door closing at the far end.

Elise didn't move until everything went silent. Then she turned her chair back to the desk. Picked up her pencil. Continued the line she'd left unfinished.

Elise had known this was coming since Gran Eleanor, Callum's grandmother, had passed away three weeks ago. The one thread that had held Callum in a marriage he'd never wanted for two years. Now that thread had snapped. And Elise had no right to be surprised that his ship would sail whenever it pleased.

What she hadn't prepared for was how light Callum's voice had been when he said the word *divorce*.

As if informing an assistant of a schedule change.

Elise looked at her sketch: one side neat, the other messy where the lines suddenly stopped. The drawing felt like her marriage to Callum—neat and well-planned in public, but hollow and meaningless in reality.

Elise hadn't married Callum for love, but out of necessity.

Two years ago, her father Gabriel Hale's company had collapsed due to maneuvers backed by the Voss family.

Gabriel died burdened by debt. At the same time, Leo, Elise's younger brother, suffered an accident requiring long-term recovery that drained their savings. The marriage proposal from Grand Eleanor came as a lifeline. The marriage was an arrangement—a form of atonement from the Voss family's guilt. Not a vow of devotion or love.

Yet, in the midst of quiet, cold days, Elise had once hoped for small things she shouldn't have hoped for. Not about grand love, but about being chosen. Just once, she wanted to be acknowledged as a partner—not merely a heart that needed soothing with compensation and financial security.

That was the other reason behind Elise's request.

The contract with Mr. Harlan was only half the reason she'd prepared, long in advance. The other half was a reason she would never say aloud to anyone—not even to herself.

Elise wanted to be by Callum's side a little longer. To feel, for a few weeks, what it was like to be his wife.

To go to events together. To choose outfits for the same evenings. To stand beside Callum without feeling like a stranger. To ride home in the same car.

To spend the next twenty-eight days without having to pretend that all the small things that had happened in their marriage meant nothing. Because, in reality, to Elise, everything that had happened in this marriage meant something.

Twenty-eight days. Four weeks. Elise would endure for that. She would play the role of Callum's wife—a role she had never truly gotten to play.

Elise took a long breath and exhaled slowly. Her hands were still trembling as she looked at her desk, full of the small remnants of her life: sketches, pencils, unfinished portfolio photos.

Elise refused to pity herself. She chose a cold resilience instead. If this marriage was just a contract, then she would play by the contract's rules: four weeks, no more, to fulfill her request and keep her promise to Callum in return—signing the divorce papers without conditions.

Elise rearranged the papers on her desk, closing some pages, opening others. She began planning the first dress she would wear to the first gala—something that reflected who she was. Elegant but not flashy, enough to be a convincing partner for Callum in front of everyone.