Her Return: His Regret

Destiny POV

When I met Ronan, I was volunteering at a public hospital. I was the daughter of one of the most powerful families in the entire country, but my whole life was kept secret to give me some privacy—after all, I could easily become a target for my father’s enemies.

Despite his immense wealth, my father had strict values that had to be followed. So, because I was going through a rebellious phase, he sent me to do community service to remind me of what really mattered in life.

At first, I hated it. But after a while, I realized it was kind of nice to care for the sick, especially the kids with cancer.

Then I met him—about my age, handsome, but weakened by his illness. His hair was shaved, his body thin, and his eyes tired, yet he was still breathtakingly attractive.

“It’s acute leukemia,” he said suddenly, catching me staring at him out of the corner of my eye. “You can talk to me, you know. I don’t bite—just dying, that’s all.”

He had this way of facing his situation with humor and lightness that was both impressive and funny. His personality was one of the first things that caught my attention. So I kept going back to that hospital, where things had gotten a lot more interesting with Ronan’s presence.

We grew so close that the entire ward started calling us “ROSTINY,” a mash-up of our names, since everyone assumed we were a couple. And soon enough, Ronan and I started dating for real.

We’d sneak up to the hospital rooftop, dragging his IV bag along with him, and sit there smoking a cigarette, watching the sunset, and talking nonsense. Despite knowing his physical condition, falling in love with him was simply inevitable.

“Tell me what you plan to do with your life when I’m not here anymore,” he asked, his head resting on my lap.

“Dunno. Probably just rot in a corner and fade into oblivion. Hopefully, at least my corpse gets dumped in some random ditch,” I replied with my usual sharp sarcasm, the kind of humor we always traded. But this time, he wasn’t laughing with me.

“I was studying law before the cancer hit,” he said, speaking seriously for the first time. “I dreamed of becoming the CEO of the biggest law firm in the city, transforming my humble family’s life, and making a difference in this world.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, clearly emotional about opening up like this. “You shouldn’t waste your life, Destiny. You don’t deserve a ditch.” He looked at me.

In that moment, my heart felt touched like never before. I realized how selfish I’d been, living recklessly, mocking everything, and refusing to find direction just because I was pissed at my father and his empire. In that moment, I felt my life had a purpose.

I felt that I loved him.

So I decided to fight for him.

Unlike me, Ronan didn’t come from a wealthy family—far from it. He lived in some suburb in the Bronx, and his parents’ income barely covered their medical bills, let alone paid for his cancer treatment.

That’s when I started pulling strings. Since I could never reveal my true identity, I manipulated things to make it look like Ronan had won free treatment by chance. Soon, he was receiving top-tier care at a private hospital.

His family thanked God with tears of gratitude, and he looked at me, calling me his lucky charm, not knowing how close to the truth he was.

I was always there, sitting in an armchair by his bed, sometimes lying beside him as he held me, always watching over him, taking care of him. Then one day, Ronan slipped a ring onto my ring finger, making me gasp with surprise and emotion. He was proposing.

“You’re crazy, you know that? You’re half-dead. Do you really want me to end up a young widow?” I scolded him, my heart racing, my face flooded with emotion.

He laughed at my panic. “Then you’d better take good care of me so I stick around longer for you,” he said with the most beautiful smile in the world. I threw myself into his arms, overwhelmed with joy and tears. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to marry the love of my life.

…

“Marry?” my father roared when I broke the news to him, sunlight streaming through the tall glass windows of his lavish office. “When I heard you were getting romantically involved with one of the patients from the volunteer program, I actually approved.

I thought it was good that you had new interests instead of acting like a delinquent. But I never imagined you’d be foolish enough to think about marrying someone so far beneath your station.”

His words broke my heart. Of course, my father wouldn’t support my decision—he never supported any of them. So I defied him. I cut ties with my family, vowing never to return, and married Ronan. Even though he wasn’t rich and was sick, he was the man I loved, the one who made me happy.

Over time, he started to recover, but truly beating the disease would take longer, requiring immense dedication and a fight for life. I was willing to live for him if necessary.

After the wedding, we lived in his parents’ apartment in the Bronx while Ronan was well enough to resume his studies.

Later, after he graduated, we moved to a small apartment in Manhattan so he could be closer to his job and the connections he was building.

Ronan was ambitious, always striving to stand out, and I loved that. I loved watching him conquer the world while I took care of his health, celebrating every victory we achieved together.

Five years after I met Ronan, we were sitting in Dr. Noble’s office, the doctor who had been overseeing his case all this time. Today was the day of his final tests to see if he was truly free of the disease. We held hands, visibly anxious for the results.

“You two are a true example of resilience. I must congratulate you for never giving up on living,” the doctor said, clearly proud of us.

“Thank you, Dr. Noble,” Ronan replied, squeezing my hand with his palm. “I owe everything to this woman here. Without her, I wouldn’t have made it.” He smiled at me with gratitude, and I returned the smile.

“Oh, love. Everything I did, I’d do again without hesitation,” I said, my voice thick with emotion.

When Ronan opened the test results, he saw he was cancer-free. We hugged, cried, and celebrated together. “My God, this couldn’t come at a better time with my promotion. Today’s only not the happiest day of my life because that was the day we got married, Destiny,” he said, holding me close as we stood in the clinic’s parking lot.

For me, it felt like I could finally breathe a sigh of relief. With him cured, we could start planning a bolder future together—maybe even kids. The possibility was thrilling.

“I’m going to make a romantic dinner to celebrate tonight. You’d better find a way to come home early, okay? We deserve to celebrate in style,” I said, overflowing with love.

He caressed my cheek. “You got it, my love. I love you.” He gave me a long kiss, then got into his car and drove off to work.

I let out a happy sigh, my face free of worry like never before. I headed to the supermarket to buy what I needed for dinner—something special, maybe filet mignon with truffles or lobster with herb butter and risotto. Ronan loved lobster, and today he deserved a treat like that.

At the checkout, the cashier asked, “Credit or debit, ma’am?”

“My husband beat cancer!” I blurted out, unable to contain my joy.

Back home, I put on some good music, poured a glass of wine, and hummed as I cooked, already imagining our celebration. I took a shower, slipped into a beautiful, sensual dress, and let my long, wavy brown hair fall loose, just the way Ronan liked it. Then I waited for him.

But Ronan was late.

Hours passed, and he didn’t show up. Being a workaholic, I figured he must have gotten stuck at the office, even after promising to come home early. Then my phone rang.

“Look here, you jerk. You’d better tell me you’re on your way, or I’m throwing this delicious shrimp risotto that cost me an arm and a leg in the trash! Or should I shove it up your ass to make you stop being such a dick and keeping me waiting like this?” I teased him. Ronan could be such an idiot sometimes. Imagine making me wait like this.

“Um, Dest, I need to talk to you. The truth is, I’m not coming home,” he said.

“What?”

“You can take as long as you need, but you’ve got to pack your bags by tomorrow because I’ve already terminated the lease with the landlord. You’ve got some money to take care of yourself, right? So that’s it. I know it’s hard, but don’t come looking for me, okay? My friend Jules will reach out to you about signing the divorce papers.” Then the line went dead.

I stood there, frozen, staring at the wall where a large portrait of us hung, smiling and embracing as a happy couple—so ironic given the situation that had just unfolded.

Ronan was leaving me? He had just ended our marriage over the phone?